I Dream of You - The Missing Wedding Version
by Beledi1113
Summary: Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that they aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? This is a different version of I Dream of You where Hunt was darker.
1. Ch1 - Anticipation Gone Sideways

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that?

Anyway, this is the sort of sappy, lighter version of my angst-ridden fanfic _I Dream of You_. I rewrote it based on Deep Cover, which works amazingly well into my story – left over father issues, a book tour, etc. Also, there are no back flashes in this story, so it should be easier to read.

This story takes place the end of season 6, sort of a summer hiatus (What! We just got back from the winter break and now we're headed into the Olympics break!), and can be considered AU at that point, but when isn't most fanfic?

The opening chapter is based on an experience I had when my daughter was flying back from visiting my brother in Washington DC when she was 16. At that age, they are an unaccompanied minor so they are basically treated like an adult and this was before everyone had a cell phone. Anyway, I'm in the waiting area, watching people walk by, but not my daughter. Finally the captains and the flight attendants finally walk out and I ask them if anyone else is on board because I have not seen her and this was the flight she was supposed to be on, but they say no. So I start wondering what happened and what to do – did she miss her connecting flight? Did someone kidnap her at the airport? You know, all of the stuff that parent nightmares are made of. So I go back to the arrival board and check it again to make sure I had the right flight number and notice a woman standing there – her daughter was supposed to be on the same flight, but wasn't either. So now we have 2 missing girls and we're wondering what to do next when they walk up. The connecting flight had been full so the airline (unnamed) bumped them to the next flight which took off about 30 minutes later than the 1st flight. I don't know if the airline thought that it was easier to bump 2 unaccompanied minors to the next flight, but it was a very creepy experience.

So you have your pick – this semi-light version that portrays Hunt as someone who might be invited to the wedding or the more angst-ridden version that portrays Hunt as someone who would never be invited to the wedding.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 1 – Anticipation Gone Sideways**

The morning had gone perfectly in as so much of a morning like that could.

Castle would be completing the final leg of the multi-city book tour that he had finally managed to coerce Black Pawn into moving up to August so that September would be free for their wedding.

He had been adamant about the date change, making his point not with the hissy fits that he may have thrown occasionally in the past, but with a firm determination that had impressed Gina so much that she decided he had finally grown up. Castle had even done extra press to make up for the date change, leaving on Wednesday morning, flying back Sunday evening to be with Kate at least a couple of days during the week.

The separation had been hard on them both. In anticipation of the amount of work to be done and the fact that he and Beckett had little time to do it in, he had hired the best wedding planner in New York and had put his mother in charge of overseeing the event, a task that she took to with her usual gusto. But as with all weddings, there were still a million things to finish in the 3 weeks before the event.

The morning of his last flight, they had had a quick shower, well, maybe a little longer than anticipated, a cup of coffee, and a light breakfast because they were running so late. Castle had been living out of a suitcase much of the month, always leaving one packed by the front door, so it was easy just to grab it as they raced out the door.

Since the crazy dog days of summer had been kind and not yielded a body drop yet that morning, Beckett decided to drive Castle to the airport personally so they could go through their final list of to-dos for the wedding.

But fate intervened as usual and just as they were driving into the airport entrance, Beckett's phone rang.

"Beckett," she answered quickly, using the hands-free mode.

"Sorry," said Espo, "got a fresh one – well, not so fresh in this heat."

Beckett stuck her tongue out at the phone before responding. "Okay, I'm dropping Castle off now at the airport. I'll call you back in a minute."

She hung up and quickly looked at Castle. "Sorry," she said as she pulled up to the passenger drop-off point rather than parking.

Castle gently caressed the back of her neck. "What do you expect? We live in New York. We'll be lucky not to have a body drop the day of the—"

"Shhh, don't say it," Beckett said quickly, putting a finger on his lips. "You'll jinx it."

"What?" Castle said smiling, somewhat pleasantly surprised. "This from 'Miss I don't believe in jinxes'?"

"I just want to make sure the day goes perfectly," said Beckett.

"And it will if I have anything to say about it," said Castle, giving her a quick kiss and then taking her hand. He had brought the engagement ring that she usually kept in the box on the dresser with him and slid it onto her finger. "And to show you how serious I am," he said, "don't take this off until I replace it with a wedding ring."

Beckett smiled at the ring and then leaned over to kiss Castle.

They were so caught up in each other that the security guard directing traffic finally had to blow his whistle at them to get their attention, with the corresponding sign language that they should finish and move along.

Castle opened the door and got his suitcase out of the back seat. He placed it on the sidewalk and then walked over to Beckett's side of the car.

"See you Sunday," he said, giving her a quick kiss through the window. "And in no time at all, Mrs. C To Be, you'll be Mrs. C for real."

He waved goodbye at her as he walked through the doors of the terminal.

# # # # # # # # #

As had been their usual routine every Sunday evening of the book tour, Beckett arrived early at the airport to make sure she wasn't caught in traffic. She wanted to be the first person he saw when he walked off down the ramp, watching his smile grow wider as he quickly walked toward her and caught her up in a big hug and kiss that nearly swept her off her feet.

The arrival of the flight was announced and she smiled in anticipation, carefully watching the crowd, studying it intently for his familiar visage.

Being in first class, Castle was usually one of the first ones off of the plane, but not this time.

Beckett's smile faded slightly as she watched several of other the passengers joyfully greet loved ones, while others hurried to their destinations, but Castle still did not appear.

She pulled out her phone after several minutes and called him, but the call went directly to voice mail. "Hey, Castle, this is Beckett – did I miss you? Where are you?" she asked.

Beckett hung up and frowned as the number of passengers dwindled to a trickle and then several flight attendants walked out, laughing and chatting.

"Excuse me," said Beckett, walking up to them. "Were you on the flight from LA? Have all the passengers left yet?"

One of the attendants glanced back over his shoulder. "I think there were a couple of strays. They should be out any minute."

"Okay," said Beckett, nodding, looking back down the ramp in anticipation.

She waited a few more minutes and then the rest of the flight crew walked down the ramp.

Beckett immediately spied a familiar face and called out, "Jacinda!" as she walked over to her.

The blonde flight attendant looked around and stopped as Beckett reached her. "Yes?" she asked in a puzzled voice, not recognizing the detective.

"Detective Kate Beckett," she said quickly as a way of introduction. "We met briefly a couple of years ago – Richard Castle?"

"Ah, of course, Detective Beckett," said Jacinda, clearly recognizing the name now. "How can I help you?"

"Castle was supposed to be on the flight. Did you see him?" Beckett asked.

"Richard? Yes, he was in first class," said Jacinda. "But it was a fairly bumpy flight – he may have needed to make quick stop to freshen up, if you know what I mean. Have you tried paging him?"

Beckett shook her head. "No, I tried his cell, but he didn't pick up."

"Probably doesn't have any bars. With all the metal around here, the reception can be terrible," said Jacinda as she led Beckett over to a counter. "Hi, Montrice," she said to the woman behind the counter. "This is Kate Beckett. She's here to pick up her friend but he's being a bad boy. Can you page him?"

"Sure, Jacinda," said the woman behind the counter. "The name?" she asked Beckett.

Beckett cleared her throat. "Castle – Richard Castle," she said simply.

The woman looked at her hesitantly and then at Jacinda for confirmation. "Yes, the Richard Castle," said the flight attendant.

"Okay," said Montrice slowly. She opened the paging system. "Will Mr. Richard Castle please report to the passenger pick-up area? Your party is waiting for you. Mr. Richard Castle," she repeated.

"There," said Jacinda. "He should be out in a few minutes."

"Thanks for your help," said Beckett, smiling and then turning back to watch for Castle.

# # # # # # # # #

As Jacinda reached the front door of the terminal, she heard the fourth page for Richard Castle and then stopped, glancing at her watch. She had a lay-over tonight and didn't really have anywhere else to be, so she turned and walked back to the desk where Beckett stood, once again pulling out her phone to call Castle.

"So he hasn't shown up yet?" Jacinda asked.

"No," said Beckett, shaking her head, turning from Detective Beckett into worried finance Kate. "I was here before the arrival was announced and saw everyone who came out and he wasn't with them. I mean, he couldn't have – I would have seen him…" She frowned again, thinking of possible explanations. "He didn't slip out a back exit, did he?"

If he tricked her into coming to the airport and then beating her home and setting up some elaborate and romantic gesture to make up for the tour, she would kill him. Because as sweet as that was, that would really just piss her off with all the last minute wedding details that needed to be attended to.

Jacinda shook her head. "No – there aren't any back exits since 9/11. It was fairly turbulent towards the end and maybe he had a problem. Let me send someone to check," she said as she waved at a uniformed officer.

"Paul, this is Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD," said Jacinda as she smiled at the man who walked over to them. "Detective Beckett, this is Sargent Paul Garret, airport security. Listen, her friend Richard Castle was on my flight but he hasn't come out of the terminal yet. Can you send someone to check…?"

"Sure," said Garret, pulling out his radio. After a bad flight, they occasionally had to go rescue people from the bathrooms. "Hey, Marc, can you do a BR check? We've got a missing passenger – a Mr…"

"Castle," said Jacinda. "Richard Castle."

"Castle," Garret said. "Richard Castle." He looked at the flight attendant and said in a stage whisper, "For real? The author?"

Jacinda nodded. "Yes."

As they waited, Beckett tried calling Castle's cell again and got his voice mail.

"You sure he was on your flight?" Garret asked Jacinda.

"Yes, I talked to him before the flight and then served him a drink when the seat belt sign went off."

Garret frowned. "And just how many drinks did he have?" he questioned. The flight from LA could get long at times.

"Only that one," huffed Jacinda. "We ran into turbulence about an hour out so we had to stop beverage service."

"Just have to check," said Garret as his radio crackled.

"It's all clear down here," said Marc.

"That's impossible," said Jacinda. She pulled out her phone and quickly dialed a number. "Sammy, Jacinda. There was a guy in first class – Richard Castle – I brought him a drink when we reached cruising altitude. Do you remember seeing him after that?"

"I think he got up to go to the loo once," came the reply. "But we were pretty busy with the turbulence that last hour and the unrulies so I can't be sure."

"Thanks," said Jacinda. She hung up and looked at Beckett and Garret. "Are you sure he didn't slip past you?"

"No," said Beckett, pushing her hair behind her ear. "There was no way he could have."

"Then let's go down to security, watch the footage, and see what Mr. Castle is up," suggested Garret. "People just don't disappear from a plane."

"Thanks," said Beckett.

# # # # # # # # #

"Tan jacket, dark blue button shirt, fairly new jeans, black polished shoes," Jacinda said to the man running the recognition program.

"And we've got a picture of Castle from the web, so this should be a piece of cake," Tai said. He quickly ran the program and then frowned at the results. "No hits?" he said questioningly. "That can't be right."

"That's impossible," said Garret, sitting down to watch the security footage frame by frame of the people disembarking from the plane.

By the time they had watched it the third time, it was clear that Castle wasn't with the crowd.

"Uh, Sargent Garret," said Tai, "can I talk to you in private?"

"Sure," said Garrett, glancing over at Beckett and Jacinda as they scoured the tape one more time.

"I talked with Mitchell in LA. He's got a count of 231 people boarding the flight – 221 passengers and 10 crew members. But I've only got a count of 230 people disembarking the flight – 220 passengers and 10 crew members."

"Shit!" Garret swore as he pulled out his radio. "Hey, Tony, this is Garret – we've got a passenger still on a plane – flight 5348 from LA to NY."

"Roger," came the reply. "That plane was taken to maintenance after it landed. We'll send someone right over."

Garret walked over to where Beckett and Jacinda sat. "Uh, ladies, you don't see Mr. Castle because it seems he never left the plane. Now I can assure you that this is an extremely rare incident but we've sent a crew over and I'm sure they will find him shortly."

# # # # # # # # #

The wait was shorter than expected when Tony radioed Garret.

"Hey, Garret, you smoking something up there?" came the heavy New York accent. "The plane's been locked up since it got to maintenance and no one is on board."

"No freakin' way," exclaimed Garret. "You sure?"

"Yeah, checked it out myself. Next time you want a funny, don't call me."

Garret ended the call and looked at the two ladies who stared at him. "Look – people can't just disappear from a plane – not with all the security protocols we have in place now. He just got by the security cameras somehow. We'll do a sweep and I'm sure he'll turn up."

# # # # # # # # #

The results were the same each time Tai ran the facial recognition program using the footage from all the security cameras in the airport – they could spot Castle coming into the airport last Wednesday, but after that, there was no match. The ground team reported the same thing – no one matching Castle's description was in the airport.

But there was no way Castle could have gotten off the plane unseen. The only access to the cargo hold was using a ladder behind a locked door and maintenance hadn't seen anyone in there as they removed the checked baggage. There had been no large crates on the plane that he could have hidden in.

And then there was the matter of his luggage – the manifest showed that Castle checked a bag in LA and it had made it on the flight, but it too was missing.

Impossibly, Castle had simply vanished mid-air and there was no trace of him.

Garret was apprehensive as he turned back to look at Beckett, who sat unusually still and pale on a chair, staring at the tape.

"Kate," said Jacinda, kneeling next to her. "Is there anyone we can call for you?"

# # # # # # # # #


	2. Ch 2 - The Unexpected Outcome of Poker

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that?

The words in italics are in Russian because it's got to be something weird of course with Castle.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 2 – The Unexpected Outcome of Poker**

Lanie smiled as she opened the door and Espo walked in, carrying a bottle of her favorite wine. "Boy, you think you can just stop by any time you want for a booty call?"

"Yeah," said Espo as he put the bottle down on the table and took Lanie in his arms. "And it's man," he growled as he bent his head to kiss her.

"Hmmm," replied Lanie in agreement as they moved as one to close the door.

They were interrupted minutes later when her phone rang.

"You're not on duty – leave it," said Espo, tracing a line down her neck with his lips.

Lanie laughed and reached for the phone. She knew immediately who it was from the ring tone. "Girl, you better have a good excuse for calling me rather than making googlely eyes at your writer man."

She paused for a moment and then stiffened in Espo's arms. "Excuse me, would you say that again? I'm putting you on speaker," she said as she touched the speaker icon on her phone.

"Dr. Parish, this is Sargent Garret at La Guardia. Detective Beckett wanted me to call you – there's been an incident. Can you come to the airport or is there someone else I should call?" said Garret over the speaker.

"We'll be there in 20," said Espo. "Can you give us some details?"

"Uh, I'd rather not over the phone, sir," said Garret. "If you'll come to freight entrance, I'll have personnel waiting there to escort you back."

Lanie quickly hung up the phone, both of them straightening their clothes as they sprinted out the door.

# # # # # # # # #

Espo had never broken so many traffic laws in his time as a policeman as he did this time, weaving in and out of traffic, the siren on his car blaring, horn honking at the slow-minded drivers in his way, determined to get to the airport in the stated 20 minutes. Lanie hung on for dear life with one hand while calling Ryan and Gates with the other to let them know something had happened but they had no details.

As Espo pulled up to the freight entrance gate, he saw several men standing in front of the guard shack, along with a couple of uniformed officers, a black van waiting behind the shack.

"Suits – black suits," he muttered as he screeched the car to a halt in front of them. "This isn't good."

One of the men stepped forward and then had to jump back as Espo slammed his door open and sprang out of the car. Another man opened the door for Lanie.

"What happened?!" the Latino demanded. "Where are Beckett and Castle?"

"Sir, we're here to escort you and Dr. Parish to security," the man replied calmly. "And if you'll give us your keys, we'll take care of your car."

Espo practically threw his keys at the man and then turned to follow the other man as Ryan and Gates pulled up in their individual cars.

"What's going on?" demanded Gates as she got out of her car. "Where are Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle?"

"Captain, if you'll give us your keys and follow us," the man said, motioning to the van, a neutral expression etched on his face. "We'll answer your questions as soon as possible."

The team quickly boarded the van, whispering among themselves as they were driven past various building. There had been nothing on the police scanners about an incident at the airport – no 911 calls, no alerts.

They were shown down a fairly long corridor to a section of the airport that few people knew about and even fewer granted access to.

The control room was bright, crowded with modern technology that monitored the heartbeat of the airport and people who were watching each screen intently, bringing up different views, making quick notes on paper in front of them.

Another man walked up to them as the first man showed them inside and then left.

"I'm Agent Harris, Homeland Security," he said. "Unfortunately, we have a situation that we have yet to explain, but I assure you that there is a logical explanation. Since it involves one of yours, we thought you should know."

"Excuse me?" said Gates.

"It seems that Mr. Castle boarded his flight in LA, but when the plane landed here, he didn't leave by any of the usual exits," Harris said simply.

Gates frowned at the man. "Let me get this straight," she said. "The airlines lost Richard Castle."

"No, ma'am," the agent said. "He was _**not**_ lost. He simply did not leave the plane by any of the usual exits. We are looking into all possibilities."

"You sure he was on the plane?" asked Espo, frowning.

"Two of the flight attendants confirmed that he was on board the plane when it took off and the manifest lists 221 passengers and 10 crew members on departure. However, on arrival, only 220 passengers and 10 crew members disembarked."

"You're kidding," said Espo.

The man shot him a look and then walked over to a monitor. "We thought he might have been one of the first people off the plane and Detective Beckett just missed him, so we ran facial recognition on all people in that area at that time, but there were no matches. We've also had personnel look through the video in slow motion in case facial recognition missed him, but we didn't see him."

"Did he use the facilities during the flight?" asked Ryan, channeling Castle. "I mean, could he have fallen…?"

"That is impossible," said Harris.

"What about the cargo hold?" asked Lanie. "He can be really curious – could he have gotten locked in there somehow?"

"Ah," said Harris, "that was a possibility, given Mr. Castle's history on flights, but not this time. The onboard computer shows that the cargo door was locked and never opened during the flight."

"Any wheelchairs?" asked Espo. "Could someone have stuck him in a wheelchair and rolled him off?"

"No," said Harris, shaking his head. "There were no wheelchair passengers on board the flight."

"And carry-on luggage would be too small to put him in, unless…" said Ryan, the murder detective coming out in him.

Espo shook his head at him. "Dude, don't even…"

"We analyzed the contents of the sanitary system," Harris answered. "And there was no indication of any large amounts of blood in the water."

"See," said Ryan, shrugging back at Espo.

"We've also analyzed the luggage that people brought off of the plane and none were large enough to have put someone in," said Harris.

"So you basically don't know where Mr. Castle is," said Gates.

"No, at this time. But a forensic team is going over the plane and we're also interviewing the passengers, so I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we know what happened. In the meantime, Captain, if your team would like to go over the video, maybe they can see something that we missed."

"Kate," Lanie said suddenly. "Where's Kate?"

Harris motioned to a side room. "In there."

Gates glanced at the door. "Detective Ryan, you and I will stay here. You two go see about Detective Beckett. I want to bring Ellis in on this too."

"Yes, sir," said Espo and then walked into the small room with Lanie by his side.

Her face pale in the glow of the monitor, Beckett sat ramrod straight in a chair, her trembling hand touching a picture of Castle frozen on screen.

"Kate," said Lanie quietly, kneeling down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Beckett blinked and looked at her with tear-filled eyes. "He's gone, Lanie. He got on the plane in LA and disappeared," she said. "We're supposed to get married in 2 weeks."

"Honey, they'll find him," Lanie said firmly. "People just don't disappear from planes. They've left a trail somewhere. Someone knows something. And you'll have your wedding."

Agent Harris stood in the door way. "Detective Beckett, we're going to set up monitoring devices at Castle's home in case they call. Is there some place else we should monitor?"

"No," said Beckett, shaking her head and swallowing. "No, that's the only place." She shuddered slightly and looked back at Lanie, whispering. "They've taken him – Tyson or Bracken – they won't call. He must be so scared."

# # # # # # # # #

Castle let out a small gasp as the attendant placed the bottle of Russo-Baltique Vodka on the table in front of him, leaning over and lingering a moment so that her cleavage in the low cut outfit was in full view. She then delicately and carefully opened the bottle and poured some of the clear liquor into the stem glass that sat in front of him.

"Is that?" he said to the man sitting across from him.

The man nonchalantly waved his hand toward the bottle. "They gave me 3 bottles when I bought my Pola her SUV. As a thank you gift. A mere triffle. Please, help yourself."

Castle picked up the glass almost reverently, holding his breath slightly and closing his eyes as he put his lips to it and took a small sip, waiting a moment to savor the flavor before swallowing.

"I myself enjoy the finer things in life," the man chuckled as he watched Castle. "But where are my manners?" the man continued. "Drinking on an empty stomach is no good and you must be hungry after that long flight from LA." He snapped his fingers. "Dinner – now."

Another attendant went into a front compartment of the elegantly appointed bizliner and quickly returned, placing a tray in front of the men. A small dish containing caviar was nestled in the crushed ice in a larger crystal dish, two small gold spoons lying next to the dish, accompanied by several blini.

"Ah – the 1st course," the man said as the attendant put a small amount of the caviar on the cracker and then gracefully fed it to him.

Castle paused when the second attendant offered him a cracker in the same manner.

The man chuckled again. "You Americans – so reserved. Relax – enjoy yourself. Maybe a little dessert later?" he said, putting his arm around the attendant next to him who leaned into his touch with a slight smile.

"Uh, I'm getting married in 2 weeks," Castle stammered.

"Think of this as an early bachelor party," the man replied. "Who's to know?"

"I would," said Castle, taken back by the comment. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said with a frown, taking the cracker out of the attendant's hand and then biting in to it. He had to quickly stifle a comment as he felt the juicy luscious pearls of the best tasting caviar he had ever had burst in his mouth.

"Well, then maybe a game of poker after dinner," the man said after he finished his second cracker.

"And if I win, you'll let me go – now?" Castle asked hopefully.

The man smiled at him like a shark smiles at its dinner. "No," he said simply. "But if you win, I'll personally escort you to the American Embassy in Moscow when you finish."

Castle stared at the man and then pressed his lips into a thin line. It wasn't like he had a choice at this point, miles high in the black sky over the Atlantic.

"And if I lose?" he asked.

"Then you walk to the embassy." The man burst out laughing at Castle's expression. "You Americans – so easy. Win or lose, I will drive you to the embassy after you finish. And now, for the rest of dinner – an exquisite lobster and shrimp bisque, followed by the finest Kobe beef you have ever eaten, and more Vodka. We are gentlemen after all and you will find that I treat my guests extremely well."

Smiling, as if the matter was settled, the man turned to the attendant and gave precise instructions on how the Kobe beef should be served.

Castle settled back in the leather seat, trying to keep his face neutral and his heart from racing, because at this point, his fight or flight reaction had kicked in and he was sure either one of those would get him killed.

The last thing he remembered before waking up on this jet was going to the bathroom in the economy section and starting to walk back to his seat in first class. Then everything had gone black.

Up to that point, the trip from LA had been uneventful and he had quickly read the manuscript that Gina had given him to review with the threat that if he didn't, the honeymoon wouldn't be a lot of fun because she would have ripped off certain appendages that Kate had come to love.

Then Castle had woken up, slumped in the seat, with a man studying him intently, the wind noise unmistakable. He blinked several times, looking around, trying to figure out where he was because he certainly wasn't where he should have been. When the man started to talk, Castle knew he was in trouble – either that or the plane had crashed and he was in a medically induced coma or in hell because this just couldn't be real.

"When we met, I told you that I loved Derek Storm," the man said. "But my wife loved him more and you made her cry when you killed him off. Mr. Castle, no one makes my wife cry."

"I'm sorry?" said Castle hesitantly, realization finally dawning on him who the man was.

The man took a sip out of the glass he held. "So here is the deal. You will write a story that brings him back and I let you go," the man said, waiting expectantly. He was a man whom most people learned that it was not good to say "no" to.

"I write and you'll let me go?" Castle reiterated a slightly confused look on his face.

"Yes, that is what I said." The man frowned at him. "You make my wife happy and I'll make sure you get to the American embassy in Moscow. Her name is Pola – you might use that for one of your better characters. Deal?"

"You're holding me captive and you expect me to write?" Castle asked in disbelief.

"Well," said the man, sitting back in the chair. "You can write or you can leave, but it's a long way down."

Castle was abruptly brought back to the present when the attendant snapped open a napkin and placed it carefully in his lap, a slight smile curling the sides of her lips.

Espo, he thought quickly to counteract his body's reaction – Espo and Ryan. They were right – he should never have played poker with the Russians.

# # # # # # # # #


	3. Ch 3 - A Rose By Any Other Name

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that?

The words in italics are in Russian because it's got to be something weird of course with Castle.

Thanks so much for everyone who has commented, followed this story, and marked it as a favorite. Constructive reviews are always welcome.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 3 – A Rose By Any Other Name**

By the time Lanie and Kate arrived at the loft, Homeland Security agents were setting up the equipment to monitor incoming phone calls in case a ransom demand was made. Martha sat on the couch, holding Alexis as she cried softly in her arms.

Beckett had wanted to tell them what had happened in person, but Harris insisted that they needed to move quickly – the more time that passed meant the less chance of recovery.

When he had said that, Beckett had to stifle the laugh tinged with hysteria that caught in her throat, her gut screaming that there wasn't going to be any ransom demand. If Tyson had taken him, he would call to taunt her as he killed Castle. If Bracken had taken Castle, he simply would never be found.

The HS agents took no notice of them as they walked in, but Martha glanced up, a watery smile on her face.

"Oh, Katherine," she said.

Beckett quickly walked over to the couch and sat down next to them. "I'm sorry – I wanted to tell you in person—"

"No, dear – Agent Harris is right," Martha responded. "The sooner they start looking for Richard, the better."

Alexis sat up slightly and hugged Beckett. "Was this what it was like when I was kidnapped?" the girl whispered. "I'm so scared."

Beckett hugged her back. "I am too," she admitted. "But they'll do everything they can to find him and we won't let them stop."

Alexis nodded her head against her shoulder. Now all they could do was wait.

# # # # # # # #

The bizliner touched down on a field that had been cleared earlier that morning in anticipation of their arrival. Castle had no clue where they were, but if he had to guess, it would be Russia based on how long the flight had been.

He was glad for the thick coat, hat, and fur-lined gloves that the attendant had given him after they landed. The bright sun blazing off the snow almost blinded him as he walked down the stairs to a waiting vehicle. He and the man climbed into the first one, while the two attendants got into the second one.

While the adult in him was scared shitless at the circumstances, the child part was enjoying the trip, watching out the window with excitement as the scenery changed from fields to forest and then to rolling hills.

In the distance, he could see a large complex on a hilltop that grew in size the closer they got to it and then sat back in amazement as he recognized what it was. It was a castle, but not one of those fairy tale Disneyland kinds that looked like it could be easily shattered. This castle was made out of solid stone, battlements rising majestically towards the clear blue sky – the unbreachable kind he was thinking of when he chose the name Castle.

The man chuckled at him. "Not what you were expecting? No?" he asked.

Castle stared out the window and shook his head. "I'm not sure what I was expecting – maybe something modern? Or something 3rd world?"

"My wife designed this – she's an architect," the man said simply.

The driver sounded the horn as they reached the edge of the mote surrounding the castle and a drawbridge was lowered.

"And I find the design gives a touch more security. I assure you that the inside has all of the modern conveniences that anyone could want."

The vehicle soon pulled into the interior courtyard and stopped.

The man sitting in the front passenger seat quickly got out of the car and opened the doors for Castle and the man.

"Fedot will show you to the suite you will be using. Please ask him if you need anything. Now if you excuse me, I have business to attend to before my wife returns home."

The man gave him a quick nod of the head and turned to walk into a side building.

Castle followed Fedot into the main room and then up a winding stair case. He couldn't help but stare at the decor as they walked through the castle, wondering how many of millions of dollars – or rather rubles – this had cost.

Fedot finally stopped at a room in the middle of a long hallway.

"Your room, sir," he said, opening the door and motioning Castle inside. "If you need anything, please ring the bell."

Castle looked inside the room and then back at Fedot. "Listen," he said quietly, conspiratorially, "I have lots of money – just let me go and I'll give you what—"

His words were cut off by a swift blow to the stomach that doubled him over and left him gasping for air. "Guess not," Castle squeaked out when he could finally straighten up.

"Your room, sir," said Fedot, motioning him inside.

Castle nodded and walked in hesitantly, expecting to be followed, but Fedot simply closed the door.

Castle waited a few minutes and then walked quietly back to the door and tried to open it, but found it locked. He hadn't heard anything, so he assumed it was locked electronically. Yes, this place probably did have all the modern gadgets that he was so fond of playing with.

He walked around the room for a minute, inspecting his cage. A large 4-poster bed was against one wall, a desk with chair against another with a laptop powered up on it.

Elaborate drapes covered the wall across from the door – good – a window – at least he could see where he was.

Castle quickly walked up to the drapes and pulled them back, only to find a brick wall. So much for looking outside.

A quick tour of the rest of the room revealed an elegantly equipped bathroom with toiletries, a closet with several suits, and an armoire containing clothing, bottled water, and a good supply of American snacks.

Castle sat down on the bed, wondering what to do next, when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in?" he said questioningly. He was sure Fedot would never knock.

The door opened and one of the magnificent attendants from the plane walked in, wearing only a short white robe and crocs.

"Mr. Volkov thought you might need to relax after your long flight," she said.

Castle gulped as he practically leapt off the bed and shook his head, rolling his shoulders and then swinging his arms to prove his point. "No – no, I'm good."

"Men – you only think of one thing," said the attendant, snapping her fingers.

Two burly guards carried in a massage table and put it in the middle of the room.

"You will find I have many talents. Now, please take off as much as you want or you can leave your boxers on," she said walking back to the door. "Just whistle when you're ready." She looked back over her shoulder. "You know how to whistle, don't you."

As soon as Castle had divested himself of his clothing, leaving just his shorts on, and situated himself on the table, the sheet covering his lower half, he puckered his lips and tried to whistle, but found that his mouth was too dry. He wet his lips and tried again, this time producing a passable result.

There was a knock on the door and the attendant stepped inside, her eyes laughing at him while her face was serious. She took off the robe, revealing a sports bra, boy shorts, and a muscular well-toned body, similar to Beckett's. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back in a bun.

She walked around him, observing for a minute, and then selected one of the small bottles she had put on the table. "I think perhaps frankincense," she said as she rubbed together the massage oil and essential oil in her hands to warm it up, and then placed her hands on his back, feeling him jump. "My, you are tense, aren't you?" she said as she ran her hands lightly over his skin. "Just relax – I won't hurt you – too much, that is."

Castle coughed slightly. "I don't even know your name."

"You may call me Tatiana," she said applying more pressure.

Soon, she had him groaning in appreciation as she worked out knots he didn't know he had and left him feeling like melted gold when she finished.

"Mr. Castle," she leaned over and whispered in his ear when she was finished so not to startle him in his relaxed state, "dinner is in 30 minutes and you are expected. Mrs. Volkov prefers that we dress so there is a suit in the closet."

She stood and walked to the door, and then looked back at him. "Wear it well – the last man wasn't so lucky."

# # # # # # # #


	4. Ch 4 - The Test

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that?

Author's Notes – Thanks so much for everyone who has commented, followed this story, and marked it as a favorite. No, this Volkov is not the same Volkov from Target/Hunt but may be a very distant relative. Volkov is a common last name in Russia – it means wolf. And rest assured, I don't write fic that has Castle and Beckett cheating on each other, but they aren't necessarily joined at the hip either because I believe people who love each other don't have to be.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 4 – The Test**

# # # # # # # #

Castle surveyed his reflection in the mirror and paused – the dark-charcoal pin stripe suit fit like it had been made for him, the lilac shirt bringing out the blue in his eyes. He hadn't found a tie in any of the drawers though and wondered if it would be rude to not wear one. He looked like he had stepped out of the picture on one of his books and maybe that was the role he was assigned to play.

He heard the click of the door handle as Fedot opened the door. "You're expected," the man said simply.

"Coming, Lurch," Castle replied, walking out of the room and then waited to be escorted to where-ever they were going.

He followed the tall, muscular man back down the hallway they had come up earlier in the day to a room off of the main hallway.

Castle paused again as the man opened the double doors and announced him to the woman who stood near the fireplace, gently rearranging some of the flowers in the vase on the mantel.

She turned as Fidot said his name and approached him, right hand out in greeting, a smile on her face.

"Mr. Castle, thank you so much for making time for us while you are here in Russia doing research. I was so excited when Pasha told me that you had asked to see my father's library," the woman said in a soft Russian accent.

"You're welcome," Castle said carefully, smiling slightly, as he shook her hand. "Mrs. Volkov?" he asked.

"Oh, please call me Pola – all of my friends do," she said as she took his arm and led him to one of the large chairs in front of the fireplace. "Have a seat. Pasha is just finishing business and will be here in a minute. May I offer you a cognac?"

Castle smiled again. "Yes, please. That would be lovely."

He gingerly sat in the chair and watched her pour the dark-brown liquid from a bottle on a serving cart into three long-stem tulip glasses.

She definitely didn't look like what he had imagined Volkov's wife would look like based on the statuesque attendants on the plane.

Pola was medium-height, rather plain looking, her graying hair pulled back in a neat bun. Her figure was lithe – maybe she had been a ballet dancer at one time – but had the slight middle-age spread that sneaks up on some women after the age 45. The cream color Chanel suite and single strand of pearls complimented her perfectly, as well as the nude stilettoes that Beckett would have killed for, and she wore them with the ease of someone born into the life of the wealthy.

She offered Castle one of the glasses and then sat down and studied him.

"Mr. Castle, I was curious – just how did you hear about my father's library?"

"Oh," said Castle, thinking quickly. "I met your husband a couple of years ago in New York at a poker game and he said that if I ever came to Russia, I had to stop by and see it." He shrugged. "And I just happened to be in Russia."

Pola laughed easily. "I should have known. Pasha and his cards. Brigette will give you a tour after dinner."

Castle paused a moment, gently swirling the liquid in the glass. "Now that you mention it, he really didn't say too much about it, just that as a writer I had to see it."

"Ah, my father was a scholar of world literature and collected marvelous books by Hemingway, Shakespeare, Pasternak, Solzhenitsyn, Austen, Fitzgerald, Shelley, Tolkien, von Goethe, Fleming, Patterson," Pola expounded. "When I was young, I would have spent all my time in there, given the chance. I learned to read English at an early age and it opened the world to me."

Castle nodded. "I know what you mean – I spent most of my free time as a child in the New York Public Library." He paused, not quite sure how personal to get. "So you're a writer?"

Pola took a sip of her cognac and shook her head slightly. "No, just an avid reader. While I love the arts, my father insisted I have a career in a practical field, so I became an architect. Now I spend half of my time in Moscow at my design firm and half of my time here teaching reading to the children at the home."

She smiled and sat back in her chair, legs gracefully crossed at the ankles. "He even had all of your books, Mr. Castle, and I found that I developed his guilty pleasure of reading good pulp fiction on a sunny afternoon by the pool – a book that you can get lost in and leave the sorrows of the world behind for a while."

Castle chuckled slightly as he took a sip of his cognac.

Pola frowned and cocked her head at him. "You find that amusing, Mr. Castle?"

Castle quickly shook his head. "Oh, no, ma'am – people who read my books feed my family and pay the bills no matter where they are," he said quickly and then motioned to one of the windows. "I'm from New York and we have snow, but not like this – it must be at least 3 feet high outside. I find it hard to believe that it's ever warm enough here to sit by a pool and read a book."

Pola laughed again. "Most of the time, no, but we do have a few nice days and the pool is heated, so you can always pretend," she said conspiratorially.

Castle nodded and then paused again. "Pardon me for being so personal, but I noticed that you talk of your father in the past tense."

Pola smiled wistfully. "He passed away six years ago – right before your last Derek Storm book came out. In fact, that was the first book I read after the funeral."

Castle cringed slightly. "Sorry – that probably wasn't the right book to read then."

"No, no," said Pola, waving her hand at him. "It gave me closure. He had been sick for so long but the day he died, I was in Moscow on business and never got a chance to say goodbye to him. Reading that book gave me a chance to – to realize the finality of it all." She laughed softly. "Of course, poor Pasha was so distraught when he caught me crying."

"He's not the only one," Castle commented drily.

"So tell me, Mr. Castle – " Pola started.

"Richard," Castle said, smiling at her. "My friends call me Richard. And some other names that can't be used in polite society," he added hastily, not quite knowing why he said that but sure that nerves were definitely involved.

"Richard, then," said Pola. "Why did you kill off Derek Storm? He was one of your best-selling characters before Nikki Heat."

Castle thought for a moment. "I'm beginning to think I made a mistake too, but writing him got to be boring," he said, reflecting on his action. "There were no more surprises. I knew exactly what was going to happen every moment of every scene…"

He trailed off when he realized that Pola was no longer listening to him. She was looking past him and a glow had started in her eyes, her face softened by a small smile.

Castle knew without a doubt that Volkov was standing there and that this was a woman in love with him. He had seen that same look on Beckett's face as she sat reading on one end of the couch and he sat on the other, trying to type, each one sneaking glances at the other when they thought the other one wasn't looking.

"Pardon me, moy golubushka," said Volkov. "Work took a little longer than anticipated."

Castle stood as the man walked over to them and gave his wife a quick kiss.

"A problem in the factory?" she asked, her hand lingering on his face for a second.

"Just a simple matter," said Volkov. "I assume you two found something to talk about?"

"Yes," Castle said, "our mutual love for literature."

Volkov nodded. "Good. May I?" he asked his wife as he gave her his arm to walk her over to the table. When they reached the table, he pulled out her chair and then gently pushed it in after she sat down.

The table was set for 5, fine china plates, crystal stemware, and silverware marking each place. Linen napkins were folded neatly, sitting in front of each plate.

Shortly after they were seated, Brigette entered the room, pushing a cart containing several chafing dishes, Tatiana following. Both women wore elegant simple sleeveless black sheath dresses that showed off their toned arms.

"May I?" Brigette said as she stopped the cart by Pola.

"Yes, thank you, dear. And everything smells lovely as usual."

"Thank you," Brigette said, smiling as she placed a bowl of cabbage borscht topped with sour cream and dill in front of the woman. She also placed bowls of borscht in front of Volkov and Castle, and then put the two remaining bowls on the table in front of the empty seats.

Tatiana sat a basket of black bread in front of the Volkovs and then offered Castle a piece out of the other basket she held.

"That shirt is a very lovely shade on you," she said quietly as she leaned closer to him. "It matches the shorts you are wearing."

"Hope you enjoyed the view," Castle whispered sarcastically, trying not to blush as he remembered the quick shower he had taken before he dressed for dinner, grateful he hadn't done anything noteworthy.

"My job is simply to watch and report," Tatiana replied.

Following Pola's lead, Castle picked up the napkin to put it on his lap, knowing that he was definitely under a microscope and feeling like he had just passed some sort of unexpected test, the results of which could have been unpleasant if he had not.

"Brigette is an excellent chef," said Pola. "I'm sure she can prepare any dish that you would like."

Castle smiled at her. "This is wonderful," he said. "Reminds me of a Russian bakery in New York not far from my first apartment."

Volkov broke off a piece of bread and then looked at Castle and back at Pola. "Moy golubushka, you'll be glad to hear that on the way here, Mr. Castle was telling me that he was thinking of bringing Derek Storm back."

"Oh," said Pola, somewhat surprised. "But, Richard, you said he didn't seem interesting anymore?"

Castle put his spoon down on the side of the plate. "Oh, he got a whole lot more interesting about 24 hours ago."

"And the way he died – that seemed so final," Pola questioned. "But then, in fiction, the author can write the world as he wants it to be – would that we could do the same in the real world."

Castle nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure that Mr. Castle will come up with a perfectly logical explanation and an exceptional story," said Volkov. "Now, how is the library for the orphanage progressing? I'm sure that Mr. Castle would be very interested in it."

# # # # # # # #

After a quick tour of the library that left Castle practically salivating to spend some time in, Brigette showed him to a smaller room on the main floor.

Volkov and three other men sat at a poker table.

"Ah, Mr. Castle, perhaps you'll join us in a friendly game of poker?" Volkov said, shuffling a deck of cards.

Castle shrugged. "I seem to be all out of rubles," he remarked.

The older man who looked like Groucho Marx snorted out a laugh. "Here we play for American money."

"Don't have my wallet either," said Castle.

"No problem," replied Volkov, smirking, pushing a pile of coins in front of an empty chair. "I'll cover you. Besides, with your luck, you will win everything."

"Let's hope so," said Castle as he sat down in the empty chair.

# # # # # # # #

After several hands, Castle couldn't decide if Groucho Marx was a bad poker player or just a brown-noser because he folded each hand fairly early, as Pasha's stack of coins in front of him grew.

The two other men knew what they were doing, as did Pasha, and the pile of coins in front of them grew also but not as much.

But at least for tonight, luck was with Castle and he was the high winner when Volkov called for the last hand.

Tatiana came into the room as the men were standing up, collecting their winnings, to walk Castle back to his assigned room.

She paused at the door. "Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Castle?"

"Yes," Castle said quickly. "A calendar with today's date circled."

Tatiana raised an eyebrow at that.

"It's the jet lag and time change," said Castle in way of explanation. "It's easy to lose track of time when I travel. Bad habit of mine."

"Very well," nodded Tatiana. "Have a good evening."

Castle nodded at her as she closed the door. He waited a few minutes and then walked over to it and tried the handle – locked as usual.

He quickly stripped down to his shorts, found a cotton t-shirt in a drawer, and climbed into the large bed.

Castle stared at the ceiling and thought how his life had changed in just 24 hours. When he left LA, all he could think of was the fact that he was marrying Kate Beckett in just over two weeks. Now, he was a man on a mission – he would write a story that brought Derek Storm back – a damn good story at that – and he would marry Beckett on their chosen date, come hell or high water.

# # # # # # # #

He stood at the altar, Ryan and Espo standing with him, Alexis a bridesmaid, Lanie the maid-of-honor. The fall colors and flowers complemented the church perfectly.

He caught his breath as the bridal march started and the doors opened, revealing Kate in a white dress, a net veil covering her face, her father standing proudly beside her.

Castle couldn't contain his smile as they walked down the aisle towards him. When they reached the altar, Jim lifted the veil and kissed Kate on the cheek, and then she turned toward him.

The ceremony seemed to take no time at all and the preacher finally said that he could kiss his bride. Castle lifted the veil, only to find another veil covering her face. He frowned and lifted that veil as well, only to find another one in its place. It didn't matter how many times he lifted the veil, there would always be another one covering her face.

"Beckett!" he yelled as he desperately fought with the net which seemed to be everywhere. "Beckett!"

"Come back to me, Rick," Beckett called to him from far away.

"Always," he said as she floated up out of his reach.

# # # # # # # #


	5. Ch 5 - Day and Night Half a World Apart

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – The words in italics are what Castle is typing.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 5 – Day and Night Half a World Apart**

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

Castle stirred from sleep as his brain finally registered that the rough pounding on the door wasn't the waves crashing against the shore that he and Beckett walked along, hand in hand, enjoying the bliss of their honeymoon. After the effects of the nightmare had dissipated, he had fallen back asleep and was having such a wonderful dream that he didn't want to wake up and move from his warm cocoon.

"Rise and shine, cowboy," said Tatiana as she walked into the room.

"Huh?" Castle asked groggily, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Tatiana responded. "Morning exercise."

"Uh – I'm more of a couch potato – Call of Duty exercise type," Castle pouted. "And there's snow outside – it's too cold."

"It's never too cold," countered Tatiana. "But I'll make you a deal – you run a mile this morning, I'll give you the calendar and I'll even mark today's date on it. You'll find exercise gear in the armoire," she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room so he could get changed.

"Okay, okay," Castle groused as he climbed out of bed and stood shivering in the cold as he dug the clothes out and quickly dressed.

He picked up the coat, hat, gloves, and scarf that Tatiana had left on the bed and then started towards the door.

Castle wasn't surprised when the door opened, Tatiana waiting for him.

"So where to?"

"Around," she replied.

"And if I die of frostbite?" Castle asked.

Tatiana laughed. "You won't. It's fairly warm today. You'd have a better chance of being eaten by a wild dog."

"Then that's not for me," Castle said, pointing to the automatic rifle slung over her shoulder.

"Not unless you're a dog," she responded as they walked out a side door.

# # # # # # # # #

After they crossed the drawbridge, she started off in an easy jog that Castle could keep up with.

"So what are the tourist attractions around here?" Castle asked, carefully assessing his surroundings, as he moved the scarf away from his mouth.

"Down this way is the town I grew up in – about 5 kilometers. That's where Mr. Volkov's factory is," Tatiana replied.

Castle paused when he heard dogs barking in the distance. "Uh – should we—"

Tatiana shook her head, keeping the pace steady. "No, they're several miles away. Their voices carry during the winter."

When they reached a suitable point, Tatiana stopped. Castle leaned over and pressed his hands into his thighs, keeping his mouth covered as he drew in deep breaths to get air into his aching lungs. He hadn't run in a long time and even this slow jog had winded him.

"Anything else down this way?" asked Castle after he could finally breath easier.

"Just the hills. What do you Americans call this – the boondocks?"

"Yeah, something like that," Castle said nodding.

"Ready to go back?" Tatiana asked, looking at her watch.

"Do I have a choice?" Castle asked.

She shook her head. "Not really. Volkov owns the town."

They jogged back to the castle in silence where Fedot met them at the door.

"You'll find breakfast waiting for you," said Tatiana, "as well as the calendar."

"Thanks," said Castle, trying not to breathe too hard once again. "We can just skip this tomorrow if you want."

She laughed at him as she walked away.

Fedot walked Castle up the stairs and opened the door, waiting for him to enter the room. "Write," the man said as he closed the door behind him.

Castle walked over to the small table where a chafing dish sat and lifted it up. Brigette had prepared a traditional Russian breakfast of a slice of rye bread topped with sliced sausage with a small dish of butter to the side. He wasn't sure if it was the forced exercise or the smell, but his stomach rumbled, his mouth watered, and he found himself famished.

He quickly ate the sandwich, followed by sips of black tea in the cup on the tray, and then walked into the bathroom. He carefully stripped, trying not to show too much at one time, feeling like he was back in school, and then stepped into the shower and let the hot water warm him up.

When he finished the shower, discretely dressed, and walked back into the room, he found the tray gone. In its place were a pitcher of water and a glass.

Castle picked up the calendar and stared at the date that had been underlined. Good, he thought, as he made some quick calculations. Depending on where he was in Russia, the time here was anywhere from 7 to 18 hours ahead of New York, more likely 10 to 12. He had only lost one day and the wedding was still 12 days away.

He circled the date of the wedding and started counting backwards, developing a plan of action.

Castle had won the poker game on the plane and thoroughly expected Volkov to keep his word and take him to the American embassy in Moscow. At this point, he didn't care if the man did it personally or had someone else do. He just knew that's where he needed to be to get back to New York.

If he could write the story in 8 days – no wait, make that 7 because of the time difference for the return trip – that left a day to get to the embassy in Moscow, another day or 2 to get back to New York – he would be there in time for the wedding. He would call Kate from the embassy to let her know he was alright and not to cancel the wedding.

He could do this, Castle thought as he sat down and looked at the laptop. He would do this.

This wouldn't be his usual murder mystery, with all its twists and turns, but a love story dedicated to Kate because she made him want to be a better man. There were low times when she pushed him away and he had wanted to give up on them, the fight to scratch and claw his way over her walls overwhelming him. Sometimes the siren call of his old life beckoned him, trying to ensnare him back into its easy, undemanding ways. But his heart would never let him give up because it wanted what it wanted and wouldn't be satisfied with anything less.

Castle thought for a moment – he would start it with the story of his parents. He put his fingers to the keyboard and began to type.

_Storm Surge_

_The first thing that Derek Storm realized was that he was alive – that his brain was functioning on some level enough for him to have awareness of being alive and who he was. The second thing he realized was that he felt different, not the same as before the bullet pierced his brain and he had supposedly died. _

_He felt limited. It became more apparent when he opened his mouth to let them know that he was conscious but the only thing that came out was a primal grunt, as if his brain was incapable of telling his mouth the words to say. His brain couldn't even tell his body to move as he tried repeatedly to lift either of his hands. _

_Storm started to panic when he felt a warm hand caress his cheek and looked into a pair of hazel eyes that he never expected to see again. _

_They had met just after he had been recruited by the CIA and had fallen passionately, madly in love. It had been a glorious time, full of adventure, full of firsts. _

_But then, he had been sent on a mission and when he returned a year later, she was nowhere to be found. And being CIA, he couldn't search for her directly – that would have been too dangerous for both of them. _

_Storm made a few discreet inquiries, but they yielded nothing, so he had buried that part of his life in his work. But he never let go of the girl who had stolen his heart. _

_And now she was in front of him and he couldn't do anything about it – he couldn't move – he couldn't speak – he could only blink his eyes to let them know someone was in this shell. He felt himself spiraling out of control into a blaze of anger and frustration and impotence as the monitor attached to him blared out his panic. _

# # # # # # # # #

The knock on the door broke Castle out of his stream of thought and he shook his head as if to clear it of the thousands of thoughts that raced around his mind.

Dressed in the short robe, Tatiana walked in. "You must be tense after sitting at the computer all day," she said as the two guards carried in the massage table.

"Just in the zone," Castle said. "You know, it would probably be easier if you left that in here."

"And disappoint the Volkovs?" she responded. "Let me know when you're ready," she said as she stepped out of the room.

# # # # # # # # #

After the massage, Castle took another quick shower and dressed for dinner. As he was finishing with his cufflinks, Fedot opened the door to escort him to the dining room.

The table was once again elegantly set. Mr. and Mrs. Volkov sat by the fireplace, deep in discussion, sipping the before dinner brandy. After they moved to the table, Brigette and Tatiana quickly served another exceptional meal.

Except for the fact that Castle was being held as prisoner against his will, anyone would have thought that this was a 5-star hotel and that they were old friends on vacation.

After the meal, Volkov escorted Castle to the same room where they had played poker night, the other three men once again waiting at the poker table.

"Ah, I see you're still with us," said the older man, laughing as he casually pulled out a large sum of money from the zipped bag he carried.

"And I see you've replenished your bank," said Castle as he sat down next to the man's right.

"Tikhvinsky," chided Volkov, "I must be in the wrong line of work if that's what a magistrate makes."

"Wealthy uncle," the man replied as he shuffled the cards. "Tonight, Mr. Castle, you will find that my luck has changed."

# # # # # # # # #

But unfortunately for Tikhvinsky, that statement wasn't true and luck certainly wasn't with him, even though he bet heavily and loudly.

Castle quickly won several hands, building up his winnings into a sizeable pile, while Volkov and his second-in-command Demetri won the rest. The third man Petrov, a ranking member of the local police force, was more guarded with his betting and broke even for the night.

Tatiana was right – Volkov owned the town and everyone around here.

As much as Castle studied his cards, he studied the men at the table. They laughed easily and drank too much vodka – he was sure he could get the drop on Tikhvinsky, but not the other two. Escaping on his own seemed impossible at this point.

# # # # # # # # #

When Castle got back to his assigned room, he quickly changed in a t-shirt and sleep shorts again. Before he got into bed, he marked off the day on the calendar.

"Kate, please wait for me – don't give up," he whispered and put his fingers to his lips and then pressed them against the black mark.

# # # # # # # # #

**New York**

Beckett lay in their bed, staring at the ceiling in their bedroom, when the alarm on her phone went off. The fact was that she hadn't slept at all – couldn't sleep at this point and it showed in the dark circles under her eyes.

It had been just over a day and a half since Castle went missing – almost 36 hours with no leads, no calls. She knew that as each hour ticked by, the chances of recovering him dropped statistically.

Beckett had quickly voiced her concern about 3XK and any other unknown enemy that Castle had – he had been instrumental in incarcerating numerous criminals in the past several years and maybe one of them had taken him.

Harris assured her that they were following all leads, but then quietly admitted they didn't have any.

Gina and Paula were so distressed over the situation that Black Pawn quickly put up a $500,000 reward for any information leading to the safe return of Richard Castle and the press was having a field day, reporters staking out the precinct, the sidewalk outside the loft, and Black Pawn's offices.

Was this a publicity event to drive up sales? Castle's track record with marriages wasn't good, so had he simply gotten cold feet and stayed in LA?

Gina had issued a statement asking for privacy during this delicate time and assured the press that when she heard something, they would hear also.

Beckett shrugged on a robe over her pajamas and pulled her hair into a messy pony tail before walking out to the kitchen.

The morning shift of HS agents had just arrived to take over monitoring, a quick briefing from the night shift. It was quick because there had been no activity.

Harris arrived a few minutes later as Martha and Alexis walked down the stairs, arm-in-arm, looking as weary as Beckett felt.

The briefing was fairly quick – there were a few sighting of Castle – Kentucky, Canada, Alaska, the Caribbean – but they turned out just to be someone who looked sort of like him. There was no new information from the CSI search of the plane, but they would continue until it became feasibly impossible.

Beckett seethed at being handled and given simple platitudes of false assurances. It simply rubbed her the wrong way and was something she avoided when she spoke with victims and relatives.

She was about to say something when Martha caught her eye and slightly shook her head.

The older lady sat down beside her. "Katherine, dear, they're trying their best."

Beckett acquiesced, nodding. "Of course," she said.

Martha pulled her into a tight hug on one side, Alexis on the other. Kate could feel her trembling, but Castle's mother was an amazing resilient woman, and they drew strength from each other.

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

Castle groaned against the covers as Tatiana once again woke him up too early to run outside. It has been a while since he exercised for any length of time and he was a little sore from yesterday's run.

Today, the carrot was an "American" cheeseburger for running a mile.

Castle thought for a moment – a bowl of borscht or a cheeseburger? He got out of bed and quickly changed into the running clothes that had been washed and returned while he was at dinner the previous night.

This time, they ran in a different direction, past a garage that housed several cars.

"So what's down this way?" he asked.

Tatiana shrugged. "More boondocks."

The rest of the day was similar to the day before. Castle wrote much of the day and then took the pages he printed off to Pola for her to read that night.

Once again, he and Volkov played poker with the other men and Tikhvinsky's luck hadn't changed.

# # # # # # # # #

When Castle got back to his assigned room, he followed the same routine – quickly changing in a t-shirt and sleep shorts and then marking off the day on the calendar.

"Kate, please wait for me – don't give up," he whispered and put his fingers to his lips and then pressed them against the black mark. Another day down – another day closer to his goal.

# # # # # # # # #

The next morning, Castle was already awake and dressed for his morning run when someone knocked on his door. He frowned and then said, "Come in," when they didn't automatically barge in. It was not like he had privacy here.

Pola opened the door and walked in, smiling. She was dressed in winter overalls patterned to match the outside trees. "Richard, thank you so much for letting me read what you have written."

"You liked it?" he asked hesitantly.

"I found it … very poignant. But it's not your usual style, no?" she questioned.

Castle shook his head. "No, I've decided to do something different this time – branch out a little."

"I'm glad you have," Pola said. "You have such talent for telling stories and I—"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door and then Tatiana walking into the room.

The younger woman stopped suddenly when she saw Pola. "Mrs. Volkov, I didn't realize that you'd be here."

"I just came to thank Richard for letting me read his story and to tell him how much I'm looking forward to the rest of it." Pola glanced over at Castle. "And I'm actually going for a walk this morning and wanted to invite you to join me."

Castle nodded. "Yes, I would like that. Thank you."

Tatiana frowned at Castle and then smiled at Mrs. Volkov. "Of course," she said. "I'll see you this afternoon then." She turned and left the room in a quick walk.

Pola smiled at Castle as they walked down the stairs and into the front foyer. "I have to apologize for Tatiana. She means well, but she takes her tasks very seriously."

She stopped by a cabinet in the foyer and unlocked it using a key from her key chain. Inside were several automatic rifles and she took one out and then looked at Castle. "We occasionally have problems with wild dogs. Would you like one?"

Castle thought for a moment and then shook his head. He hadn't quite figured out where he could go if he escaped and shooting Mrs. Volkov was not an option – Volkov yes, his wife no. "I find I do better with something smaller."

Laughing, Pola locked the cabinet and then slung the rifle over her shoulder.

# # # # # # # # #

The route they took this time was behind the castle into the woods there.

The trees were bare, the snow pristine except where wildlife had made tracks in it.

"Mrs. Volkov – Pola," said Castle as they walked. "Do you mind me asking how you and Volkov met?"

"No, not at all," she responded. "We were both students at St. Petersburg State University. He was studying industrial engineering while I was studying architecture. A mutual friend introduced us."

"Was it love at first sight?" Castle asked.

Pola laughed at his statement. "Most certainly not. I was an independent woman, determined to make my own way in the world. Poor Pasha – he didn't stand a chance back then."

Castle chuckled. He was definitely familiar with that type of woman and glad that Beckett had finally changed her mind about them.

"So what happened? I mean, you two got married."

Pola thought for a moment. "He was patient and just wouldn't go away. And he survived my father's annual hunting trip and that won my father's approval. He was a very hard man to please in that area."

"You said he studied industrial engineering?"

"Yes," said Pola. "After college, my father hired him to help at his factories. Pasha updated the technology and improved production. After a few years, he made him vice-president and when my father died, Pasha took over the business."

Castle nodded, not sure if Pola knew of her husband's ties to the Russian mob. But then again, maybe her father had been in it.

He was about to ask another question when Pola stopped him by placing a hand on his chest, her gloved finger in front of her mouth to indicate that he should be silent.

He frowned and then his expression turned to amazement as he realized they had come upon an elk herd grazing several hundred yards in front of them, unaware of their presence.

Castle watched the animals in fascination until the crack of the rifle firing cut through the air twice, startling both him and the herd. Two of the smaller elk nearest them jerked and dropped almost simultaneously as the rest of the herd scattered.

Sighing, Pola pointed the barrel of the rifle towards the ground. "They are such beautiful animals, but the herds are larger this year and we've had a drought so there isn't enough food available to see them through the winter." She pulled a radio out of her pocket and spoke into it briefly. "At least the home will have meat for a while."

# # # # # # # # #

Looking none too happy, Volkov was waiting for them as they walked through the front door of the castle.

"Lyubov moya," Pola said as she walked up to him and kissed him. "I thought you were at the factory today."

"You off walking in the woods with a handsome man and no chaperone," Voklov teased.

"I assure you that Richard was a complete gentleman," Pola laughed softly and then whispered, "kak budto u menya yest' glaza dlya kogo-libo yeshche."

Volkov smiled at that and gently kissed his wife.

"And I wanted to thank him for letting me read his story," she continued.

"You've finished already?" Volkov said, frowning at Castle.

"Almost," Castle replied. "Just a couple of more chapters to go. I should have it finished in 4 days."

"You can write that quickly?" Volkov asked.

"Given the right incentive," Castle replied.

"And this quick writing – it does not make the story bad?" Volkov queried.

Castle frowned at the insult and shook his head. He was about to respond when Pola intervened.

"No, lyubov moya, the story is quite lovely and I look forward to reading the rest of it. Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to get ready to go to the home." Pola kissed Volkov again and then turned to Castle. "Thank you again, Richard. Please feel free to read any of the books in the library while you are here."

She walked up the other set of stairs to their suite as Volkov turned to Castle.

"Perhaps it would be wise to not walk with my wife in the woods again," he said in a low voice.

"I thought it would be rude to decline the lady's invitation. Besides, after that demonstration in the woods, I would say that she knows how to handle herself."

Volkov laughed. "Yes, I knew when she killed that beast on the wall that I had found the woman of my dreams." He pointed over to the large elk head with a magnificent rack hung on the wall. "Let's just hope I don't put your head up there, Mr. Castle," Volkov said. "Either of them."

# # # # # # # # #


	6. Ch 6 - My Turn Now

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – Thanks for reading, commenting, and marking this story as a favorite. It really means a lot.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 6 – My Turn Now**

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

Castle ran his hand over the calendar before he sat down at the computer and began to type.

He didn't need caffeine to induce this particular creative writing streak – he had the calendar to do that for him. Almost like the dirty bomb he and Beckett had encountered, the countdown was steadily ticking towards the date circled in red, an almost painful reminder that he needed to complete his task by then. And now he had 5 days to do it in.

Back from his forced morning exercise and freshly showered, Castle was surprised that he looked forward to being outside, because if he was stuck inside all of the time in a room with no windows, he'd truly have a case of cabin fever. And would probably do something incredibly dangerous and stupid.

This morning, Tatiana had headed them north, pointing out a road that led to the airstrip where the plane would land that Volkov would use to take him to Moscow when he finished. The biggest town in the region was only 170 kilometers down that road.

Castle paused for a moment, considering a plot point, and then started typing again.

# # # # # # # # #

**New York**

In his office, Beckett sat in his chair, legs under her, with his robe tightly wrapped around her, staring into space, a pile of wet tissues on the desk.

She vaguely heard Martha answer the door and then the older lady's voice calling her, "Katherine, dear, your friends are here."

Beckett blinked tears from her eyes and wiped them quickly with another tissue and then untangled herself, stood, and walked into the front room.

Lanie, Espo, and Ryan stood by the front door, the boys carrying several sacks.

"Hey," Lanie said as she quickly walked over to Beckett and encircled her in her arms, giving her a tight hug. "How are you holding up?" she whispered.

Closing her eyes, Beckett leaned into the hug for a few moments and then stepped back, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Been better."

She looked around awkwardly, almost at a loss of what to do next. "Can I get you something?"

"Girl, we didn't come here to be entertained. We came to see how you're doing," Lanie said as Espo and Ryan put the sacks on the counter and took out several cartons. "I figured you weren't eating so we brought dinner."

"I'm not really hungry," Beckett said. "Maybe Alexis and Martha…" her voice trailed off as she looked around the loft.

"Katherine, I'll go get Alexis – you visit with your friends," said Martha as she turned to walk up the stairs.

Lanie led Beckett over to the couch and sat her down and then sat next to her, taking her hands into hers.

"Harris said they don't have anything new," said Espo.

Beckett nodded. "It's been almost 72 hours. They've called in the FBI," she said, nodding her head toward the woman sitting in front of the monitoring equipment.

"Listen, whoever took him will mess up at some point and then we'll get the bastards," said Espo.

"Yeah – no one is that good," added Ryan.

Beckett nodded weakly, but knew they were wrong. She had a more realistic imagination than Castle, but right now, hers was on overdrive and told her that Jerry Tyson or Bracken had taken Castle and he would never be found.

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

Castle smirked at the calendar, entwining his fingers and stretching them out, reveling in his prowess. As fast as he was writing, he was going to beat his deadline by a day, finishing the story tomorrow, and then returning home a day or two before the wedding, that is, if Kate hadn't cancelled it yet.

He glanced over at the door as Tatiana walked in.

"Hey, can we skip today? I'm at a crucial point and I want to finish this tomorrow."

Tatiana shrugged. "Sure. By the way, Brigette and I are leaving this afternoon to go skiing for a few days."

"But who will take me out for my morning walk?" Castle quipped dryly.

"I'm sure Fedot would if you asked politely," Tatiana replied.

"Yeah, but he'd politely take me out in the woods someplace and not leave a breadcrumb trail back."

"True," said Tatiana. "Oh, Mr. Castle, if you don't mind, can you sign these for Brigette and me?"

She held out two of his Nikki Heat books.

Castle frowned and stood up from the desk. "Sure."

Tatiana pulled a pen out of her pocket and then started to hand it to Castle, but it dropped suddenly.

As they both bent down to pick it up, she quickly whispered in his ear, "Finish today and come with us. Mrs. Volkov will be at the home the rest of the week and I fear for your safety. Mr. Volkov can be quite unpredictable."

Castle frowned at her slightly and was about to answer when Fedot opened the door.

"Think about it, please," she whispered before she stood and walked out of the room.

# # # # # # # # #

That night, dinner was a rather simple affair that Brigette had put together before she and Tatiana left.

Before the nightly poker game, Volkov walked Pola to the car that Fedot had pulled into the courtyard of the castle.

"Ya vernus' cherez neskol'ko dney , moya lyubov'," she said as they kissed goodbye.

Volkov waited until the car crossed the drawbridge and it was raised before he walked back inside the castle.

# # # # # # # # #

As usual, Castle and the other three men were waiting for them for the after dinner poker game.

"I hear you are leaving us tomorrow," Demetri said to Castle.

"Yes, I'll be finished with my research then. I'm really looking forward to getting home," Castle said pointedly to Volkov.

The man chuckled as he looked at his hand. "I assure you, Mr. Castle, that I am a man of my word and I did promise to take you to the American embassy after you finished. You have kept your part of the bargain – I will keep mine."

"Then let's make this a memorable evening since we won't have another one together," said Tikhvinsky as he pulled out his money pouch.

# # # # # # # # #

The next morning dawned gray, icy, and sunless, the quick drop in temperature playing havoc with the generators used to power the castle so that there was no power available for unessential systems.

Snuggled in the thick coat that Fedot had brought him when the power went out, Castle wrote as long as he could using the computer's battery, but finally had to give up when the low battery message popped up.

He saved his work, shut down the laptop, and closed it more firmly than needed, his mood almost as foul as the weather outside. He had been so close that he could taste it and now this happens – he felt almost as impotent as Storm did in the story.

Castle stretched and picked up the small pencil flashlight that Fedot had also brought the first time the lights had gone out. Yeah, this would really make a good weapon.

He paused for a moment, looking at the door – could he? He knew where the rifles were kept, the cars were kept, and the road that would get him away from here.

Castle walked over to the door and slowly tried the handle, holding his breath as it turned and the door opened slightly. He opened it further and then was about to step outside when the guard next to the door brought his rifle up to Castle's chest.

Castle immediately threw up his hands. "Library?" he asked, hoping that would be a suitable excuse.

The guard took the radio off of his belt and quietly talked into it. He then nodded and motioned Castle down the hallway.

The tall windows in the library let in enough light so that Castle could pick out a book he had been wanting to read and sat down in one of the chairs.

# # # # # # # # #

Later that evening, the lights finally blazed back into life and Castle had the guard escort him back to his room so he could finish the story. He was so determined to make his deadline, to make it back to Kate in time for their wedding that he wrote all evening.

The story he was writing was a story of loss and redemption, the struggle of the human spirit overcoming the frailties of the human body. But with his vivid imagination, Castle threw in a final scene where Derek's past caught up with him – the ex-CIA agent had spent months relearning to move, relearning the woman who was love of his life – only to face the possibility of it being ripped away from him and he would fight that with every fiber of his being.

Castle was so involved in the final scene he was writing, pounding the keys furiously to the detriment of the laptop he used, that he didn't realize the explosions and gun fire he heard in his mind were real until the room he was in shook slightly and the lights in the room blinked several times, bringing him out of the zone.

"What?" he said as he heard more explosions and gunfire coming closer. Maybe someone had realized where he was and had come to rescue him? That could work too, but damn, he was so close to being finished.

He quickly saved what he was working on and walked quietly to the door, listening for a moment before cautiously opening it.

Castle was surprised to find that the guard was gone and crept down the hallway, hugging the side, to see what was happening.

He had almost gotten to the end of the hall when he heard voices yelling and booted footsteps running through the lower floor. Definitely not American, he thought, and definitely not friendly.

Heart pounding in his throat, Castle slowly walked down the stairs, keeping to the side as much as possible. No one was in sight when he reached the landing but he could hear the harsh voices in the other parts of the castle and more gunfire.

He glanced at the front foyer – the front door of the cabinet containing the guns had been smashed open and it was now empty, the front door opened, revealing the fire blazing in the courtyard.

If he could make it to the car shed, he knew which direction he had to go in to make it to help.

Castle quietly hurried to the front door and glanced outside, and then pulled back, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to unsee the destruction he had seen outside.

The source of the fire was the car that Fedot had driven Mrs. Volkov to the home in, now engulfed in flames, lighting the courtyard in an eerie glow. Several dead bodies lay in the courtyard, including Pola and Volkov near her, their hands almost touching in their last moments.

Castle gritted his teeth in determination and slowly moved through the door, ignoring what was in front of him, and stepping out into the freezing air.

He made it to the front of the courtyard without being seen, but then had to stop. Men with assault rifles stood watch at the drawbridge and jumping into the moat definitely wasn't an option in this freezing weather.

Castle thought quickly – being in the "boondocks", there had to be a communications room in the castle somewhere so that they would be in contact with the outside world. If he could make it there, he could call for help.

He quietly retraced his steps in the early morning light, returning unseen to the castle.

Castle was crossing the foyer when a figure dressed in black ran out of a room. They both froze, startled to find someone else there, and then the man fired at him.

The first bullet missed its mark, and Castle turned to run back up the stairs when the second bullet hit him in the thigh, spinning him around. The third bullet grazed his forehead as he dropped to the ground, stunned.

The man ran up to him and roughly rolled him on his back, yelling at him in Russian.

Castle put his bloodied hands up in surrender, saying the one phrase that Tikhvinsky had so diligently taught him, thinking it was "I don't speak Russian."

The man quickly brought the butt of his gun down on his head and Castle felt his world go black.

# # # # # # # # #

The battle to take the castle was short, swift, and bloody, the police overpowering the guards quickly using their non-regulation firepower.

Survivors were brought out to the yard and then quickly dispatched if they were found to be still alive.

An hour passed before they finally carried Castle out of the house, plopping him down roughly on the ground.

Petrov knelt next him, feeling for a pulse, and then stood, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Castle's head.

"Nyet!" yelled Tikhvinsky from across the courtyard. He walked over to Petrov and grabbed his arm, pulling him away. "Demetriy khochet yego zhivym – vykup."

They discussed the matter in loud, belligerent voices until the Petrov finally relented and walked away.

Tikhvinsky motioned to several men over and they loaded Castle onto a cot and carried him to a waiting ambulance.

# # # # # # # # #

"Commencing operation storm warning," said the man sitting in front of a monitor and a bank of controls in the heavily armed van a few miles from the castle. "Drone 1 in the air."

He looked up at the man standing next to the monitor. "We'll have contact in 5 minutes, sir."

"Good," said CIA agent Idelson. "Team 1, stand by for extraction on my command."

They sat in tense silence until the drone sent back the first pictures of the castle.

"Uh, sir," said the man, adjusting the controls to get a clearer picture of the scene before them. "We have a problem."

The monitor clearly showed the destruction at the castle, the fires burning out of control.

"What the hell happened?" Idelson demanded. He thumbed the radio controls. "Team 1, mission scrubbed. I repeat, mission scrubbed – stand down and return to base."

He thought for a moment. "Contact our informant and find out exactly what the hell happened."

"Yes, sir," said the man at the controls.

Damn, thought Idelson. He would be returning empty handed to the United States in less than a day – not the successful outcome he had expected.

# # # # # # # # #

"New Horizons," the man said as he answered the phone. "How may we help you?"

"You sent the wrong team," the gravelly voice on the other end said. "My turn now."

The phone line went dead with a click and the man sat back in his chair.

They had indeed sent the wrong team and he knew without a doubt that anything the man on the phone asked, they would provide – partly because it was right and partly because most people were scared shitless of him.

# # # # # # # # #


	7. Ch7-The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – Thanks for reading, commenting, and marking this story as a favorite. It really means a lot. Sorry I haven't updated faster. I had a major life crisis happen which really saps energy. Definitely rated T for language.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 7 – The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men**

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

Tikhvinsky smiled as he counted the money in the case. He had been well paid for his part in this and promised safe passage to any place in the world he wanted to go.

He knew he was a dead man if he stayed. Informants had a fairly short life here and he had every intention of living a very long life of leisure in a tropical island somewhere, leaving behind the misery of this desolate land.

Tikhvinsky carefully navigated the snow covered road towards the airfield where he would signal the plane to come pick him up.

The landing strip was in site when the car jerked to the right suddenly and then skidded onto the ice-covered lake. The warm days had caused the ice to melt slightly and the weight of the car was too much. Large cracks opened underneath the vehicle, dipping it slowly into frigid water, but there was no signs of struggle in the cabin. The ice gave a final groan and the car slipped into the lake, never to be seen again.

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

The first thing Castle realized was that he was alive – that his brain was functioning on some level enough for him to have awareness of being alive and who he was. The second thing he realized was that he felt differently, not the same as before he had been shot.

He felt limited and in pain. It became more apparent when he opened his mouth to let whoever he heard in the room know that he was conscious but the only thing that came out was a small sigh, as if his throat was incapable of producing any sound. Hell, he thought – this can't be happening – he had just written this and it didn't turn out so well.

His pulse started to race as he tried to wave his hand but found that his body wouldn't cooperate – wouldn't budge at his command – and there was nothing he could do about it. What the hell had happened to him?!

The readings on the monitor attached to him must have alerted someone in the room because they moved closer and spoke.

"Ostavaytes' na meste. Vy byli raneny," came the female voice near his head.

Castle's eyes widened in fear when he realized the words made no sense to him – he couldn't understand what they were saying – just before blind panic set in full-force. The only part of his body that he could move was his head and he thrashed it violently from side to side in an effort to get free of whatever constrained him.

"Pozhaluysta - vy ushiblis'," came the voice again as the mask moved closer to his face, putting a gloved hand against his cheek to get his attention. "Uspokoysya – vse budet khorosho."

Castle started into the brown eyes – they weren't the eyes he was expecting to see, but they grounded him for a moment.

"Vy budet khorosho," the voice said again as he felt himself slip away into the darkness against his will.

The nurse pulled the syringe out of the IV attached to Castle's arm and then adjusted the straps that held him to the bed.

Tikhvinsky had been very adamant in his instructions when the man had been brought in. The prisoner was part of a violent gang. He was to be cared for carefully and they would be safe as long as no one knew he was here.

She pulled the blanket up higher on Castle and then said a quick prayer for him. Tikhvinsky had a habit of dumping people he wanted to disappear here and, once here, they were drugged into a zombie-like existence until they outlived their usefulness.

# # # # # # # # #

**Paris**

Hunt had been in Paris when he found out about his son. He had just finished a mission and was at a little street café in Belleville, sipping a cup of strong coffee, watching the foot traffic with an almost clinical detachment as was his habit.

The tourists walked about at a slow pace, taking in the sites, while the residents hurried about their business, trying to get everything done before the day's end.

The assignment he had just finished had gone well and his handlers were pleased, willing to put the earlier incident in France behind them since he had taken out Gregory Volkov and most of his minions in the process of freeing his granddaughter. It had been an unexpected opportunity and one he made sure they knew about – a feather in his cap at this late stage of her career.

He wasn't pleased at the way things had gone the last time he and Castle met, but this was what he had chosen for his life and there was no room for sentimentality.

Hunt wouldn't get the information for his next assignment for a couple of days and he found that the waiting had always made him antsy, almost anxious to get back in the fray, to get the heart-stopping adrenaline rush he always felt during an assignment going again.

He glanced over at the young American couple as they got up from the table next to him, their laughter and frequent kisses pointing to the fact that they were most likely on their honeymoon. They were so engrossed in each other than they didn't realize they had left a recent edition of the NY Times newspaper they had been reading on the table.

Hunt reached for it and was about to call out to them, only to stop and stare at the small picture of his son with the caption, "The Macabre Mystery of the Missing Master of Murder."

"What the h-" he growled as he picked up the paper and flipped to the page the article was on. Castle had gotten on a place flying from LA to NYC a little more than a week ago and had simply disappeared – no explanation, no viable leads. The rumor was that he had gotten cold feet before his upcoming nuptials with Detective Beckett and had simply skipped town. Black Pawn vehemently denied that and posted a $500,000 reward for information leading to his safe return.

A few well-placed calls later, he had found out about the failed rescue attempt and the fact that they thought Castle had died in the siege.

Hunt made the call to his handlers, letting them know that he knew they had screwed up.

# # # # # # # # #

**Moscow**

The first thing the woman did after walking into her tiny apartment was kick off the sensible shoes she now wore and slip on a pair of even more comfortable slippers.

It had been a long, but productive day, so she rewarded herself with a beer from the even tinier refrigerator in the corner of what passed for the kitchen.

This was nothing like the opulent life she had been living, but she had moved on, assumed a new identify to go with her new assignment.

The law firm she worked at was small but powerful, and she blended in easily with the other clerks now that her hair was a mousy brown, pulled back in a neat bun, large glasses perched on her nose, brown contacts obscuring the azure irises of her eyes.

She paused as she opened a drawer and pulled out a necklace, carefully placing it around her neck. Mrs. Volkov had given it to her last Christmas, saying the blue matched her eyes. She had been deeply saddened when she read of the Volkovs' deaths in a hunting accident and wondered if Castle had made it out alive. The man was either the world's most trusting gullible fool or a very intelligent asset – she couldn't decide which.

She ran her hand over his book on the mantel and was about to pick it up when she realized she wasn't alone.

A white-haired man sat at the table, carefully studying her, holding her gun in his hand.

"I've heard about you," she said matter-of-factly. "They say you don't exist – you're the boggy man made up to scare assets."

"And Petrov was kind enough to tell me about you," Hunt replied. "He said that you would know where Tikhvinsky took Castle."

"Richard's not dead?" she asked quickly.

"He was alive the last time Petrov saw him, but he didn't know his location," Hunt replied.

"What about Tikhvinsky?" the woman asked.

"Gone," said Hunt, shrugging. "Disappeared without a trace."

The woman thought for a minute. "There's a small hospital near the town – Tikhvinsky probably had him taken there. That's where he likes to put people he wants to keep around but doesn't want found. I've got a map – I can show you where it is."

Hunt nodded as the woman took a map from the small bookshelf. She quickly marked the area. "It's secured, but you shouldn't have any problems getting in if you are as good as they say you are."

She laid the map on the table, staying well out of his reach, and then looked at the gun. "Now what?"

"A favor for a favor," said Hunt as he picked up the map and started to leave the room after taking the clip from her gun.

"And some cautionary advice," he said when he got to the door. "In this line of work, sentimentality will kill you quicker than bullets. Don't keep mementos. They can track you that way."

The woman sat down in the vacated chair and let out a shaky breath, knowing how closely she had come to death.

She waited a few more minutes and then walked over to the fireplace. Definitely not an agent, she thought as she tossed the book and necklace in and watched them burn.

# # # # # # # # #

**New York **

As carefully as the joyous event had been constructed, Martha now deconstructed it just as carefully the day before the wedding was to occur. She called Maddie to have her deliver the ordered food to a local homeless shelter, rather than cancelling the order. The flowers were sent to the local hospitals.

Beckett's father arrived to take Kate, Alexis, and Lanie to his cabin to give them privacy on what was to be Kate's big day.

While they would be gone, Martha had made arrangements with Espo, Ryan, and Jenny to move the wedding presents and Beckett's bridal gown to her acting studio so that there would be no reminders when they got back. They were to be kept in safe storage until Richard's return.

She told Jim not to hurry – to give Katherine all the time she needed to deal with what had happened.

A week and a half after Castle had disappeared, the FBI had pulled the monitoring equipment out of the loft and just left a phone trace because the only phone call they had gotten was from the lost luggage department at the airport, saying that Mr. Castle's carry-on bag had been found in the first class bin and they would be glad to deliver it.

At this point, the authorities believed the odds at recovery weren't good.

Jim had made arrangements to stay at a neighbor's cabin to give the girls some privacy during this time, but if he was a betting man, he was sure they would be back in New York by Sunday evening.

If her recovery at his cabin after the shooting was any indication, Kate wouldn't be able to just to sit and not do anything. She had to be in the thick of things, had to be in control. The only reason she hadn't been up to this point was that the FBI was treating her as the finance of the victim, not the detective she was, and that rankled Kate.

# # # # # # # # #

Beckett stared at the clock on the wall, tears slowly running down her face. "I'd be walking down the aisle right now, Lanie, in my gown – Castle in his tux waiting up front for me…"

"I know, hon," Lanie said, gently stroking her hair.

"I just don't know what to do," Beckett whispered as she laid her head on Parish's shoulder, leaning into the touch.

She looked over at Alexis who had cried herself to sleep earlier and lay on the other couch. "She's just a little older than I was when I lost my mother. I don't want her to go through that."

"I know, hon," Lanie said, continuing to stroke her hair as she settled Kate against her, gently rocking her and humming softly.

Beckett slowly fell asleep, soothed by the motioned and the bottle of wine she had consumed earlier.

She woke up hours later, still curled in Lanie's arms, and gently extracted herself so that she didn't wake the doctor up.

Alexis was still asleep on the couch, entwined in the blanket that Lanie had draped over her.

The sun was just coming up, the air outside brisk – a vivid contrast to her mood.

Beckett stretched carefully, feeling the beginnings of a headache, and then quickly changed into running clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from beside the door. She needed to move now, to do something other than sit around, to work off this excess anxiety that had built up over the past few days.

She quietly opened the door to the cabin and stepped out on the porch and then took off in a brisk walk before breaking into a run.

# # # # # # # # #

By the time Beckett arrived back at the cabin, she was dripping with sweat from her exertion, but her mood hadn't improved.

Lanie had fixed coffee and made Alexis go take a shower rather than sitting around moping.

"Lanie, I want to go back," Beckett said as she wiped the sweat off her face.

"Your dad will be here tomorrow to pick us up," Lanie said.

"No, now," Beckett demanded. "I'm sure we've missed something. I need to look through everything again and the longer I wait, the less of a chance there is."

"Kate, you know that Gates won't let you work this case. You're too close," said Lanie.

"Hell, yes, I'm too close," yelled Beckett, slamming her palms down on the table. "And to hell with Gates. I should have gotten married yesterday. And I didn't. So now, I'll do whatever it takes to find Castle."

She paced around the kitchen. "I know people I can contact – people who will dig deep – find answers."

"Are you sure you want to do that, Kate?" Lanie asked. "You've worked too hard to throw it away – even Rick would say that if he were here."

"That's the problem," Beckett said, rounding on her friend. "He's not here and no one is doing a god damn thing to find him."

"Kate, listen to yourself – you know that's not true. Homeland security is involved – the FBI is following all the leads they have."

"Yeah, well, then they aren't doing a very good job of it," Beckett said. "Because we haven't heard anything since he went missing. They aren't digging deep enough – asking the right questions to the right people."

"And you can?" Lanie challenged.

"Yes," Beckett said, eyes flashing.

"How far are you willing to go, Kate?" the doctor asked softly.

"I will do whatever it takes to find him," Beckett said, "even if that means I quit being a cop."

They stared at each other for several moments before they heard a small sound at the doorway.

Beckett turned to look at Alexis, who stood there, blue eyes wide, tears unshed, looking lost, her mouth opened in a small oh.

Kate froze when she recognized the expression on Alexis' face – it was probably the same one she had the night of her mother's funeral when her father had opened that first bottle of Scotch and drank himself senseless in the beginning of his downward spiral, the expression that said she would be grieving the loss of a parent alone.

Beckett drew in a shaky breath, realizing what she had to do and what she had to fight. She couldn't let the walls so carefully picked apart by Castle come back up; she couldn't lose herself down another rabbit hole because she knew that it would swallow her whole this time and there would be no coming back.

She quickly made her decision and walked over to Alexis, grabbing her in a fierce hug.

"Alexis," Beckett whispered in the girl's ear, "I promise I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you."

They held each other tightly, drawing strength, as well as comfort from each other.

# # # # # # # # #

By Tuesday morning, Beckett had finally had enough of the silence of the great outdoors and called her father to come pick them up. Alexis had brought a textbook with her and had spent most of the time just staring at it.

Martha had lunch ready for them at the loft when they walked in.

"Katherine, darling," she said, enveloping her in a hug. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm okay, considering," Beckett whispered.

Martha nodded and then hugged Alexis. "I made lunch."

"You really shouldn't have," Beckett said.

"Nonsense," said Martha as she marched them into the kitchen. "That wedding dress can't be taken in."

Beckett smiled at the older woman. Martha was firmly convinced that Richard would walk through the door any moment, telling them of the fantastic adventure he had been on, that caused him to miss the wedding.

After Alexis had eaten a few bites, she turned to Beckett, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Kate, I've been thinking," she said hesitantly. "I think I'll just skip this semester, move back to the loft—"

"No," said Martha firmly. "No, you're not skipping a semester – your father wouldn't put up with that and neither will I. But yes, you may move back to the loft." She grabbed Alexis' hand. "I can't have both of my kiddos gone at the same time," she said in a slightly wavery voice.

Alexis nodded and hugged her grandmother.

# # # # # # # # #

By Thursday, Alexis had gone back to class and Kate had gone stir crazy in the loft and had called Gates to request that she be placed back on active duty.

"I need to do something – anything," she almost pleaded with the captain. "I just can't sit around," she admitted.

Gates reluctantly agreed and put her on probation for the time being – she could work the field as long as her mental state didn't interfere with the cases.

# # # # # # # # #

On Friday afternoon, Beckett, Espo, and Ryan had just finished wrapping up a simple case when Alexis called her from campus.

"Kate, do you have a few minutes? I got something in the mail today, but when I opened it, it had a package inside addressed to you," the red-head said quietly.

Beckett's spine stiffened when she heard that but she kept her voice even. "How about the coffee shop by the precinct?"

"Sure, I'll meet you there in 30 minutes," Alexis replied.

# # # # # # # # #

Alexis was already waiting for her when Beckett arrived at the coffee shop, a small package wrapped in white paper on the table in front of her.

"The envelope was addressed to me at the college," Alexis said quietly, "but all it had was this inside addressed to you."

Beckett put on her gloves and slowly picked up the package and unwrapped, slightly afraid of what she would find. After so long, could this be the first contact?

She carefully looked at the book – _From Russia with Love_ by Ian Fleming – and cracked the cover to read the inscription inside.

"The best laid plans of mice and men…" was all that was written, but it was enough to send chills down her spine as she completed the saying silently. The sticker inside the book read iz biblioteki Pola Volkov.

"Kate, what is it?" asked Alexis, her face paling slightly. "Is it a threat?"

Beckett nodded slowly. "It's a threat," she replied quietly, carefully placing the book back in the envelope. "We need to get to the precinct and make sure they put a protective detail on Martha."

As they were quickly walking into the precinct, Beckett pulled out her phone and called Espo. "Hey, Javi, something's happened – I need you to put a protective detail on Martha."

"Uh, yeah, we're on that," Espo replied. "In fact, she's already on the way here. I was just about to call you."

"You got something too?" asked Beckett.

"You might say that," said Espo.

"We're on our way up now," Beckett said as they entered the elevator to take them up to the bullpen.

# # # # # # # # #

Several stone-faced men in suits were waiting for them, Espo and Ryan standing silently, almost nervous fidgeting, at their desks.

Beckett immediately recognized Harris who was talking to Gates, but didn't know the other man who stood listening. But she did recognize the quick glances of pity that were directed towards her and Alexis.

"What's going on?" she asked, gripping Alexis' hand.

"Ms. Beckett – Detective Beckett," Harris quickly corrected himself. "This is Agent Endel from the CIA," he said as a way of introduction. "He has some news about … Mr. Castle."

"I'm sorry," the middle-aged man said. "I wish I had better news for you. Should we wait for Ms. Rogers to get here?"

"No," said Beckett stiffly. "Tell me."

"About two weeks ago, one of our agents reported that Pasha Volkov, a member of the Russia mafia, had kidnapped Mr. Castle from the plane and taken him to his home in Russia."

"Why weren't we told then?" Kate demanded.

"We couldn't because we were planning a secret mission to rescue him – we pulled out our agent just before the raid. But unfortunately, the morning before the rescue was to take place, the compound was attacked by Demetri, Volkov's second in command – a classic case of Russian mafia tuff war." Endel paused for a moment. "All of the people inside were killed and the bodies partially burned, including Mr. Volkov and his wife Pola. We believe that Mr. Castle was killed also during the attack."

Her mind churning, Beckett pulled Alexis into a tight hug. "Don't say anything," she whispered quickly.

Pola Volkov – the best laid plans of mice and men – it wasn't a threat about their wedding – it was about the failed rescue operation. That could only mean one thing…

"But you don't have solid proof," said Gates.

"No, ma'am, we don't. At the same time Demetri's men were attacking the compound, the Russian police attacked Demetri's headquarters and he was killed. The only other person who could possibly know if Mr. Castle was killed during the raid was the local police chief and he was found dead a couple of days ago, a bullet between his eyes. Let's just say he wasn't in the best of conditions when he died."

Beckett nodded slowly, definitely his MO. "Can you give us a moment?" she asked as she led the girl into the break room.

"The book," Alexis whispered quietly. "You don't think?"

Beckett nodded slightly. "Yeah, I do."

"Then what do we do?" Alexis asked.

Beckett was about to reply when Espo led a shaken Martha into the room. With a loud sob, she joined the girls in a group hug.

Espo waited for a minute and then walked out of the room, unsure of what to do, how to comfort them.

Martha paused for a moment and then leaned in. "Okay, girls – spill. I know something's up."

Alexis glanced at Beckett for permission and then back at her grandmother. "It's grandfather – he sent Kate a book – From Russia with Love…"

"And it was from Pola Volkov's library with the inscription 'The best laid plans of mice and men…'," said Beckett.

"Often go astray," finished Martha. "You think he's involved?"

"The local police commissioner is dead – bullet between the eyes," whispered Kate. "And I'm pretty sure he was tortured first."

"Sounds like how Richard described his father's MO." Martha thought a moment. "Then they don't know," she said, glancing towards the front room.

Beckett shook her head. "No and there must be a reason for that."

"Okay, okay," Martha said. "Then we stall them – give him time. That's the least we can do. Agreed?"

"Yes," said Beckett as Alexis nodded.

"Then it's show time, folks," said Martha, slumping slightly and pulling out a hanky to dab her eyes.

They carefully walked back into the other room, Beckett on one side, Alexis on the other, each supporting the older woman.

"Mr. Endel, are you sure…about everything?" asked Martha in a shaky voice.

"Yes, we're sure Mr. Castle was at the compound. We were able to retrieve a laptop that he was using to write a story." He paused for a moment. "And then our agent also sent a video as proof."

"I'd like to see it," said Martha. "Just to be sure."

"That may not be wise," Endel said, frowning.

"Please?" said Martha.

The man nodded and motioned to one of the other men who put a usb stick into Beckett's computer.

The screen sprung to life, showing Castle and several men sitting around the table, playing poker, drinking vodka, smoking cigars, and telling off-colored jokes.

"That's definitely Castle," said Beckett, watching as Castle laid down his hand and raked in the coins, a smug satisfied look on his face. Oh, she was going to kill him when he got back.

"And we also retrieved this envelope," said Endel, handing Beckett a large manila envelope. "It was on the plane used to take Mr. Castle to Russia."

"So, now what?" asked Espo grimly.

"Since it's unlikely that the remains can be identified, we suggest that his family go before a judge and declare him dead," said Endel sympathetically. He looked at Martha. "I'm sorry – I know how traumatic this is for you all."

Martha sobbed quietly for a few minutes and then raised teary eyes to the man. "Mr. Endel, you must understand that I need proof that Richard is dead. Is there any way to do that?"

The man shrugged. "We can go through the State department and request that the Russian police identify the remains. But that could take months or even years."

Martha nodded. "I understand. And as Richard's mother, that's what I want to do."

"If you're sure, but I think this will only prolong the inevitable," Endel said.

"Yes, please," Martha said.

"I'll make the call and start the process, but I warn you that it won't be easy," said Endel. "The Russians usually aren't very helpful in this type of situation. I recommend that you don't get your hopes up."

Martha nodded and then looked at Kate, giving her a wink behind the hankie she held to up to her cheek to blot the tears.

Beckett nodded slowly, grasping the older woman's hand, hoping she was just as good an actress for what they needed to do.

Espo walked over her to give her a quick hug. "You said you got something?" he asked, remembering their earlier conversation.

Beckett shook her head. "Nah – it wasn't anything."

# # # # # # # # #


	8. Ch8 - Just Another Day at the Funny Farm

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version – Just Another Day at the Funny Farm **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – Thanks for reading, commenting, and marking this story as a favorite. It really means a lot. And I just thought life had quieted down and I could update faster, but no, so this is going to be rather long since I finally have a chance to write. There's 2 more chapters after this.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 8 – Just Another Day at the Funny Farm**

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

After Castle had woken up from surgery and then was drugged into a state of twilight sleep again, the days and nights blurred into a stupor of strange dreams of Kate, Martha, Alexis, Russian mobsters, explosions, and a hairy Sasquatch that snuck into the room each night, prowling for food.

He lost track of time and coherency as he drifted in and out of consciousness on the constant diet of pills the nurses gave him as they fed him breakfast and dinner.

Castle finally realized what was happening to him one night when the Sasquatch came into the room right after the nurse had been there and stuck its fingers down Castle's throat to make him vomit up the pills that he had just taken. Several more hours passed before his mind cleared enough to notice his surrounding and the note written in pen on the inside of his right wrist – "no wite pilz." Sasquatch were intelligent, he mused as he stared at the note, but he didn't know they knew English.

Now that he was truly awake, he found his situation much more desperate than he imagined. The ward he was in was a dreary cold place, the furniture and fixtures old and rusting, the air smelling of mold, mildew, and neglect.

The only other person in the room was an old man with a horrible cough confined to the bed by the window, a yellowing, torn curtain pulled around the bed to give him some semblance of privacy.

Castle could hear activity outside the locked door, so he knew he wasn't alone, but saw very few people. The nurses came in twice a day, a janitor in the morning to change the bedpans, the bearded janitor whom he thought was the Sasquatch in the evening to remove the trash. He occasionally caught a glimpse of a guard through the yellowed window of the door.

He had the presence of mind to lay still whenever someone came into the room, watching them through slit lids, and then to keep his movements to a minimum when they left so that they weren't aware that he was no longer partially sedated. He definitely didn't want to return to the state of suspended animation he had been living in since he had been brought here.

Now, when the nurses brought the pills, he was careful to act like he was taking them but then quickly spit them out when they turned their back for a moment

His voice was slowly coming back, but that would do little good since no one seemed to speak English and he didn't know who he could trust.

Several days later, Castle almost had a heart attack when the night janitor walked in right after the nurse left and noticed the pills he had spit out on the bed and hadn't had a chance to hide yet. The man picked them up and studied Castle for a minute before giving him a sly smile. He put the pills in his pocket and then patted Castle on the cheek.

Castle got another shock when the man leaned over and whispered quietly in English in a heavy Russian accent before leaving, "Pretend sleep – save pilz – I bring you good food – not that hog garbage."

Castle was waiting for the man when he came back the next night to collect the pills that Castle had saved during the day and grabbed his wrist when the man reached for them.

"Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely, trying not to strain his voice.

The man glanced over at the yellowed curtain and then looked at Castle. "Political prisoner – like you, Mr. Richard Castle," he replied quietly. "I told them who you were and that you were American. But they did not believe me, so they keep you."

Castle let go of the man's wrist and sat up quickly, rattling the handcuff.

The man glanced at the door and placed a warning hand against his chest. "Shhh – they always watch. They will know you are awake."

"How do you know who I am?" Castle asked.

"I read books to learn English – murder mysteries," the man replied.

"Where am I?" Castle hissed.

"Summer palace," the man said, shrugging as if the answer were obvious. "The winter palace is colder."

"How do I get out of here?" Castle asked, almost desperately.

"I've sent word to Rasputin that we are being held here," the man said. "He will bring my army to rescue us and then these peasants will pay."

Castle frowned at the man. "Your army?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," the man said, "I will not give the Bolsheviks control of my country."

Castle paused, pressing his lips together, and then asked as if he dreaded the answer. "And exactly who are you?"

"Nikolay Alexandrovich Romanov, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias," the man said, drawing himself up to his full height. "But you may address me as Tsar Nikolay," he said imperiously.

Castle lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. No wonder the staff didn't believe him – the one person who knew who he was was certifiable.

"Now, here," said the man, taking a wrapped object out of his pocket and handing it to Castle. "Alexandra made this. Besides being the Tsarina, she is excellent cook."

Castle unwrapped the covering and stared at the meat pie that smelled absolutely delicious after the unappetizing cabbage and potato stew they had been feeding him.

He slowly ate the pie, not really tasting it, as he wondered what to do next and how he was going to escape this place and get back home.

# # # # # # # # #

**New York **

It had become their nightly ritual – gathering in his office and marking off another day on the calendar and saying a prayer that this would be over soon, that they were giving Hunt enough time to find Castle and bring him home safely.

The only communication they had from the State department was that an inquiry had been started, but the results were uncertain and could take years for anything official to happen. They truly believed that Richard Castle had died in the assault and there were pending cases of Americans being held prisoner in Russia that took precedence over a dead man ashes.

Harris and Endel had disappeared from the scene rather quickly, the FBI finally pulling the phone tap when they understood that this wasn't a traditional kidnapping – that no ransom demand would be made.

The hardest part was trying to act like they thought there was a slim chance of Castle's return when they knew that everyone else thought there wasn't. But they knew something that the other people didn't know – that Hunt would move heaven and earth to bring his son home safely.

"Good night, Katherine," said Martha, giving Beckett a warm hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Sleep well, dear."

Beckett nodded and returned her kiss. "You too."

Hugging Monkey Bunky to her chest, Alexis let out a sigh as she looked at the calendar. "Kate, do you think he can do it?" she whispered. "Bring Dad home?"

Beckett put her arm around the girl's shoulders and gave her a hug. "Yeah, I do. He got you back, so yeah, I do. He's good at what he does."

Alexis nodded and gave her a quick hug. "See you in the morning," she said and turned to walk up the stairs to her room.

Beckett nodded and then walked into the bedroom after staring at the calendar for several minutes longer. She sat down stiffly on the bed, pressing a finger firmly against her philitrum to stop the tears that threatened. She wouldn't let them start – she couldn't because then she'd be giving up hope then.

# # # # # # # # #

**Russia**

Over the next few weeks, Castle and Nikolay reached an uneasy partnership, the pills in exchange for food and the nightly privilege of having the handcuff removed for a few hours so he could stretch and walk quietly around the room.

When he was up, Castle carefully snuck several peaks outside the window at the far end of the room, but all he could see was the back of another building. So much for a bed with a view.

Nikolay always stopped him when he tried to look out the door, saying it wasn't safe outside. There were spies everywhere and if he left, they would turn him over to Yakovlev for execution. He himself was invisible, so the spies couldn't see him.

Castle quietly argued that he had to know what the rest of the hospital looked like so that he could plan his escape. Nikolay finally told him that he had seen Rasputin and the man would return shortly with his army and free them.

In the meantime, all Castle had to do was play the game – act like he was still taking the drugs they gave him, otherwise, they would come in with the needle or worse, and you really didn't want that to happen.

Castle agreed, realizing that he had to do this on his own, and started planning his escape. He just needed Nikolay to leave the handcuff off one night and to find a way to make sure the door didn't lock when Nikolay left.

# # # # # # # # #

Eating his nightly meat pie, Castle glanced as Nikolay rummaged through the supplies in the room, stuffing items he found of interest into his pockets.

"Tzar Nikolay," he said quietly, getting the man's attention, and then motioned to the cup of pills on the table. "What do you do with those?"

"One of the guards is a sympathizer," said Nikolay. "I give them to him and he unlocks the door at night so I can survey my kingdom."

Castle's eyes narrowed. "So could you introduce us?" he asked with an ulterior motive in mind – if he could cut out the middle man and go straight to the person with the keys, escape might be that much easier. "I want to know what he does with the pills."

"Oh, he gives them to children in orphanage," said Nikolay.

Castle straightened in alarm. "Kids!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "He's giving them to kids? No!"

Nikolay frowned at him. "Silence, peasant – they will hear you."

"I don't care if they do," said Castle. "No more pills."

Nikolay looked at him, not understanding his reaction. "But orphans need them."

"No, they do not," Castle said emphatically. "No more pills."

"Yes, pills," said Nikolay. "All of us who can give them."

Castle frowned at him. "All of us?"

"Other political prisoners here," answered Nikolay. "Parents whose children are at orphanage. They have no medicine and Bolsheviks put land mines in the fields where they work. They burn our factories to control us. The – uh – how do you say it – the animal doctor?"

"The veterinarian?" prompted Castle.

"Yes, he took the bullet out of your leg – he treats them, so, yes, human pills," Nikolay nodded emphatically, holding out his hand.

His mouth opened slightly, Castle stared at the man. He was definitely going to need a series of shots when he got back to NY. And he was going find out where he was and how he could help.

# # # # # # # # #

Hunt was extremely frustrated that it had taken longer to find a viable entrance into and exit out of the hospital. It was more secure since it was the political detention center of choice in the area, which added a layer of complexity that cut into his allotted time to complete the mission.

He had spent weeks studying the facility, watching, learning the routine, carefully making inroads with the staff so that his presence wouldn't arouse suspicion.

His handlers had originally vetoed the idea – they would take the slow road of getting the State department involved to get Castle back – but he knew that Castle could just disappear from the face of the earth in the amount of time that would take.

Hunt finally offered up Dr. Fedrek Hedron, apparently a patient at the same hospital that they had taken Richard to. He was on the list of "things to be taken care of" and that gave Hunt an opportunity to complete two missions – one sanctioned, the other an add-on only if it could be completed successfully. They left the choice up to him if he couldn't.

He had only seen Richard once during his reconnaissance, a quick glance into the prison ward where his son lay on the bed, his wrist handcuffed to the rail, not moving, eyes closed.

If Castle couldn't walk, that left Hunt with only one option as painful as it was to him, but he wouldn't leave Castle there as a liability to be used against him.

Hunt was on a deadline and now the time had finally come to put his plan into action.

Waiting outside the entrance to the hospital, he spotted the matronly woman who visited her son several times a week and offered to once again carry her packages, just as he had done for the last several weeks.

She quickly accepted his help and he merely shrugged at the guard as they walked through the front door and meekly followed her down the corridor to the room he was going to.

Hunt had carefully selected her after he had heard about the farm accident her son had had. The boy was left partially paralyzed, still bed-ridden in the same hospital where Castle was being held, with not much of a future.

He had then run into her literally near the front gate of the hospital, knocking her packages flying, too grief-stricken by the accident his own son had had to notice her because of the tears in his eyes.

He had apologized profusely, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, telling her his story of woe and offered to carry her packages in, flashing a brief shaky smile.

She had immediately sympathized in their shared suffering and accepted his help, providing him perfect access into and out of the hospital without suspicion.

He carefully put the packages on the chest near the bed where her son lay, gave her hand a quick kiss, and departed to check on his own son – near enough the truth to be believable.

Hunt quickly stepped into a closet to put on the white jacket he had hidden in his satchel so that he could blend in with the staff and walked confidently down the corridors, a clipboard in hand, scribbling notes as he went, nodding at the staff members if they acknowledged him at all.

It was time for the shift change so most everyone was preoccupied in either ending or beginning their work day.

He found Hedron and quickly took care of that problem before walking to the locked room where Richard lay.

Hunt quietly opened the door and slipped inside, laying his satchel on the table beside the bed. He pulled out the second syringe out of the bag, uncapped it, and then looked down at his son as he lay handcuffed to the bed, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Martha," he said quietly as he moved the needle closer to Richard's chest.

"Nikolay, it's about time you got here," Castle said quietly, without opening his eyes. "I'm about to bust a kidney. And see if you can find another blanket – it's colder than hell in here and my nuts are shriveling into rai…" Castle finally opened his eyes and stared at the man standing over him. "...sins – Dad? Is that really you? How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy," said Hunt, smiling slightly, moving the syringe out of line of sight. He had to be quick about this if he wanted to make a clean get away.

"Thank God you did. I don't know how much longer I could have pulled off the catatonic trance act," Castle said quietly and then jerked at the handcuff on his wrist. "Do you have a key? Can you get me out of this?"

"You can walk?" Hunt asked hesitantly. "But you've…"

"Been faking it," Castle replied. "Otherwise they do worse things to you than just drugs, according to Nikolay." Castle looked at his father intently. "Rasputin – you're Rasputin," he said with a smile.

After Hunt unlocked the handcuff, Castle stood up and stretched, bringing stiff muscles back to life, and then looked around. "I'm assuming you have some clothes in there for me," he said, pointing to the satchel and then looking at the hospital gown he was wearing. "Because this doesn't leave a lot to the imagination and it's really cold outside."

"We're going to have to improvise," Hunt said. This was going to be harder than he thought, but that just moved his adrenaline up a notch to a desirable level.

The guard at the front door recorded everyone going in and if you weren't on the list, you didn't go out. He had come in with the Mrs. Marinka and had planned to leave that way, but now that wasn't an option. Or was it, he thought as he studied his son.

"And?" Castle asked expectantly.

"Here," said Hunt, pulling a razor out of his bag. "Shave that beard off. I'll be back in a few minutes."

# # # # # # # # #

"There," said Hunt as he finished, critically surveying his work. "Spitting image of Mrs. Marinka."

Castle did a double-take when he saw his reflection in the yellowed, pitted mirror that hung on the wall and grimaced. "I don't know if Mrs. Marinka should be insulted or I should be flattered," he said, touching the brown curls that framed his face. The garish make-up made him look more like a clown than the matronly woman who came to visit her son.

As Castle shrugged on the overdress and wrapped the shawl around his shoulders, Hunt went to the door, opened it slightly and glanced out. He suppressed a smile as he turned around to check Castle's progress and quickly slipped his phone out of his pocket and took a picture.

Castle noticed the flash and looked at his father. "Did you just take a picture?"

Hunt looked at him innocently. "That flash of light? One of the overhead lights in the hallway must be going out."

"Uh, huh," Castle nodded, putting the scarf over his head.

"You've had a bad day," Hunt said as way of instruction. "The doctors gave you distressing news about your son and you're almost inconsolable. Just let me do all of the talking."

Castle nodded, the dark curls bouncing around his shoulders, as they moved out in the hallway. Hunt put an arm around Castle's shoulders and supported his arm as he walked beside him.

Before they reached the guard station, Castle let out a loud wail.

"Inconsolable," hissed Hunt into his ear, "not a moose in rut."

"Sorry," Castle whispered and toned it down to small sobs, covering his face with his handerkerchief.

When the guard saw who it was, he waved them through and even opened the door for them.

Hunt nodded to him with a grim smile. "Plokhaya novost' ot vrachey," he said as they walked out the front door and to a truck Hunt had waiting near the garage next to the hospital.

Fortunately vanity was on their side. Mrs. Marinka discovered rather quickly that her clothes and wig were missing but it would be several hours later before she would venture out of the ward her son was in to seek help, a towel wrapped around her head and a blanket clutched to her rotund bosom.

# # # # # #

It was dark when they arrived at the airstrip that was the extraction point. Hunt quickly scouted the area to make sure it was all clear and then rushed Castle into the small building.

Having been reassured that Hunt had let Beckett, Martha, and Alexis know that he was alive, Castle quickly changed out of the clothes he was wearing into the jumpsuit that Hunt had given him.

"Ugh, this makeup is not coming off," he said as he scrubbed at his face with a wet rag.

"Hmmm," said Hunt, looking at him. "It will eventually."

Hunt reached into the satchel and pulled out a thermos. "I'm sorry you missed your wedding," he said, pouring the contents into 2 cups he had placed on the table.

Castle smiled almost wistfully. "The important thing is that there will be a wedding now thanks to you."

"I guess my invitation was lost in the mail," Hunt joked. "Here, this will keep you warm while we wait," he said, handing Castle one of the cups.

Castle looked at his father, his eyes slightly misty with tears. "I wasn't sure where to send it – I mean, I don't think the CIA has a mailbox for those types of things."

"No, we don't – but we're the CIA, so we know everything," remarked Hunt. "Drink up – it's much better hot than cold."

Castle took a sip and grimaced. "This is undoubtedly the worst coffee I've ever tasted."

Hunt shrugged, holding up his cup. "What do you expect? You're in the middle of nowhere in Russia. Besides, you'll be back in New York in a day or two, drinking high-priced coffee, and this will just be a distant memory." He pointed to the cup. "Trust me – it's much better warm than cold."

Castle paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Would you have done it?" he asked quietly as he held the cup in his hands.

Hunt froze for a moment. So Castle had seen the syringe. "Richard, son – I didn't know what condition you were in. And I couldn't leave you there like that."

Castle nodded and then finished the cup of coffee. "So how do you get me back in?" he asked, changing the subject.

"We'll pick up passports and clothes at a safe house," Hunt said and then softened his voice, making his tone as monotonous as possible, as Castle swayed on the seat, his eyes slowly closing. "Then it's just a matter of getting on the plane and sitting back to watch some horrible inflight movie. They'll be waiting for us at Customs where we will…"

He reached forwards to take the cup as it slipped out of Castle's hands and caught the writer as he slumped forward in the chair.

"Sorry, son," he said as he leaned Castle to the side so that his head rested on the table and then pulled out his phone. "The snow is falling," he said simply.

# # # #

The attendant walked quickly over to where the old man sat and gently put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Mr. Salvinsky, the plane is here. It's time to board," she said loudly.

The man turned up his hearing aids and then looked up at her. "Thank you – thank you, dear," he replied, patting her hand, a sad smile on his face.

"We are so sorry to hear of your loss," she said as she helped him stand and then walk towards the door. "Just tell one of the flight attendants if you need anything."

"Yes," the man nodded. "I'm taking my son home. He was taken from me unexpectedly and I came to get him."

"Yes, I know," she said, nodding sympathetically. "Brigette, this is Mr. Salvinsky," she said as they reached the plane door. "He's the special case I told you about."

"Mr. Salvinskly, I'm so sorry," said Brigette, taking his arm and guiding him to his seat. "Let's get you settled before the rest of the passengers board."

The old man was quickly settled by a window seat behind the wing of the plane. After the attendant walked away, he carefully pulled out a mirror and angled it so he could see the casket being loaded on the plane.

This wasn't the most comfortable or safest way for extraction, but his handlers had said it was necessary. The chatter had been that the Russian police knew that Castle had escaped and were already looking for him. They needed a way to get him out of the country unseen quickly. Fortunately, the real Mr. Salvinsky had booked a ticket for himself and his son's coffin several days in advance so all of the paper work had been completed.

Then there was the other matter of getting Richard back into the United States unseen. Castle was considered a celebrity, albeit a minor one, and Black Pawn had milked his disappearance for all the publicity they could. Hunt was sure there was something else was going on with Castle's disappearance but didn't have the proof, so they needed to sneak him back in and then have him appear in some very public place with high visibility.

After the other passengers boarded, the plane finally taxied down the runway and took off, sailing through the sky.

Hunt accepted the cup of coffee that the flight attendant offered him and relaxed back in his seat, turning up the mp3 player hidden in his jacket, the recording telling him the details of his next assignment.

# # # # # # # # # #

_**New York**_

The morning hadn't gone as Beckett had planned; in fact, it was one of those mornings that nothing seemed to go right.

They had a body drop in an alley not far from the precinct but when the team was examining the scene, Beckett turned to tell Castle something and started when she realized he wasn't there. That threw her off balance and she immediately slipped in the pool of blood by the victim and landed hard on her behind.

The rest of the team stood around her, shocked expressions on their faces, and then Espo leaned forward to give her a hand up.

"Uh, I'll need those pants for evidence," said Lanie. "I've got some scrubs in the morgue mobile you can change into."

"Yeah," Beckett said, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

After she had changed and put the pants in a plastic evidence bag, Espo was holding the phone out to her.

"Gates," he mouthed at her.

Beckett nodded and then took the phone. "Sir," she said stiffly. She listened for a few moments and then handed the phone back to Espo.

"We've got this," said Ryan, uncomfortable in this situation.

"Yeah," Beckett nodded. "I'm just going to go back to the office – there's some paperwork I can finish."

On the way back to the precinct, Beckett made a quick stop at her father's house.

"Hey, Dad," she said as he opened the door.

Jim studied his daughter, trying to keep the pity out of his eyes because he knew that's not what she needed. "Bad morning?"

Beckett nodded.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I just miss him so much," Beckett said, finally letting out the tears.

Jim took his daughter in his arms and slowly rocked her, letting her weep. He had been down this road before, knew how hard it was to live with the fact that the person you thought you were going to spend your life with wasn't there anymore.

"I know, Katie," he whispered quietly in her ear. "Just take your time."

# # # # # # # # # #

When they had landed in New York, the coffin was quickly put into the back of a waiting hearse and taken to a safe house. The team of doctors carefully examined Castle, giving him a clean bill of health and changing him into a pair of jeans and button down shirt.

After they were finished, Hunt reached forward and lightly tapped Castle on the cheek several times. "Son, it's time to wake up – we're back."

"Huh?" Castle said fuzzily, smacking his lips a couple of times and coughing slightly. "Sorry – didn't mean to fall asleep. Is it time to go?"

"Yes," said Hunt as he and another man helped Castle stand and walk to the waiting car.

Castle blinked bleary eyes at it. "Gonna be a long trip if we're driving back," he said as his eyes closed again.

"Shorter than you know," said Hunt as they maneuvered Castle into the black town car and let him slump over on the seat, snoring softly.

# # # # # # #

"Richard, it's time to wake up; we're here," said Hunt as he shook his arm.

"Huh?" Castle slurred, raising a hand up to rub his eyes.

"Time to wake up," Hunt repeated. "You're back."

Hunt and the man helped him out of the car and then propped him up against the side.

"Best car ever," said Castle, looking at the buildings around them groggily, recognizing the skyline. "I'm not still dreaming, am I?"

"No," said Hunt. "This is very real."

The man looked at this watch. "10 minutes, sir."

Hunt nodded and slung Caste's arm over his shoulder to support most of his weight. "10 minutes it is," he said as he guided the unsteady writer through the front door of the 12th precinct, as the man followed with two take-out coffee cups.

The lieutenant at the desk stood up when she saw who was walking through the door. "Mr. Castle!" she exclaimed.

"Lt. Sanchez," Hunt nodded as he maneuvered Castle through the security checkpoint. "Detective Beckett is expecting us."

"Hey, Lt. Sannie," said Castle, smiling at her. "How's it hang—"

Hunt quickly put one hand over Castle's mouth while punching the up button on the elevator.

# # # # # # #

After her breakdown at her father's house, Beckett drove to the precinct and accepted the desk duty that Gates put her on.

Several of the detectives prepping for trials needed help with the paperwork and she could use that to distract her.

Beckett sat back in her chair, running her hand through the crown of her hair and glancing at her now empty coffee cup.

"Hey, girl," said Lanie as she walked over to Beckett's desk, careful not to sit in the empty chair to the left – the one always reserved for Castle – the one someone had tied a tiny yellow ribbon to – even though everyone knew that his return was impossible.

"Hey," Beckett replied, looking up at her friend with a slight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I know why I'm here so late, but what brings you here?"

Lanie shrugged as she perched on the side of Beckett's desk. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay after this morning."

"Yeah," said Beckett. "I just got distracted. I thought…"

Lanie nodded sympathetically. "Here – let me get that for you," she said, picking up Beckett's empty coffee cup and taking it into the break room.

"Thanks," said Beckett, opening a file up.

The elevator dinged and she looked up, seeing Castle standing there holding their normal coffee, and then sighed and looked back down.

She had imagined this so many times since Castle had disappeared that she was seeing it now when she was awake – he would just walk out of the elevator, coffees in hand, and sit down like nothing had happened, making some witty remark about his absence.

The smell of coffee broke her concentration as she highlighted various items in the witness' statement and she reached out a hand for the cup without looking up. "Thanks, Lanie. I'm okay – you don't have to hov—"

She realized that it wasn't her coffee cup on the desk in front of her, but one of the take-out cups Castle had been holding and glanced up quickly to see him sitting in his chair, like everything was normal.

Pressing her lips together, Beckett closed her eyes tightly and let out a shuddering breath before opening her eyes again and reaching out a trembling hand.

Castle's equally trembling hand grabbed it and held on as he smiled at her and cleared his throat.

"You know, this is an obvious sign from the universe that we're not supposed to have an earthly wedding. And I know this guy in Russia who would gladly strap us into a rocket for a couple of million bucks and shoot us into space."

Beckett smiled through her tears. "Geez, Castle, I don't know – I don't think my gown will fit into a space suit."

As Castle was leaning forward to kiss her, he whispered quietly, "So who said anything about wearing clothes?"

# # # # # # #


	9. Ch 9 - The Long Anticipated Reunion

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version – Just Another Day at the Funny Farm **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – Okay, you asked for it. I've bumped this one up to M but it's not real explicit, just a lot of innuendo because, yes, they've been apart for a while. And it does have what passes for a bleepable word on regular TV.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 9 – The Long Anticipated Reunion**

The chaste handholding and delicate kiss quickly turned into something more urgent once they reached the seclusion of the interrogation room.

Mouths met in fury, tongues tangling, hands roaming, as each tried to make sure this was real, that they were together once again.

They needed this affirmation, this release of the frustration and anxiety that the last couple of months of separation had wrought on them.

Beckett usually didn't wear skirts because she felt they hindered her performance in the field, but now that she was on desk duty, she was glad she had taken the time to stop by the loft to change into one on the way back to the precinct.

She swallowed a moan as Castle gently sucked on her neck as he lifted her onto the edge of the table and ran his hand up her thigh. Her hands were equally as greedy as she captured his mouth in hers again and reached for the zipper of his pants.

Each freed of the clothing in between them, they moved as one as their release quickly overwhelmed them, spurred on by the fact that they had to be as silent as possible in what could be considered a PDA, which contributed to the level of mutual anticipation.

# # # # # # # # #

Beckett rested her head against Castle's chest as he wrapped his arms around her, stilling them both as they came down from the high brought on by their union, their breathing slowly returning to normal.

"Mmmm, stay for a minute," she purred in his ear, satisfied, enjoying the feeling of fullness. "I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you so much."

"Kate, I'm so sorry," he whispered in her ear as he gently kissed the side of her head. "About everything – if I had known—"

Beckett quickly placed a finger on his lips to silence him and shook her head. "You couldn't have known. It's not your fault."

"But our plans – the wedding—"

"Means nothing," she said, taking his face in her hands so she could look at him. "The important thing is that we're together again."

Castle looked at her and smiled, forgoing the remark on the tip of his tongue. "Always. And I promise—"

A loud knocking on the door interrupted him as Gates' voice boomed through the area.

"Detective Beckett – Mr. Castle, when you have a minute, I think we have some talking to do."

"Fuck," Castle hissed quietly.

Beckett giggled in his ear. "I think we just did that and rather well too."

Castle stepped back, gently pulling out as he did. "You okay?" he asked quickly.

Beckett nodded as she stood up from the table and started to adjust her clothing. "More than."

"Uh," said Castle looking around. The interrogation room usually wasn't stocked with anything that could help them right now. "Maybe I have…," he said, reaching his fingers into his pocket and finding several small packets.

Castle smiled as he took one out and held it up to Beckett. Turns out his father was a little more human than he let on, he thought. "Moist towelette?"

# # # # # # # # #


	10. Chapter 10 - Karma

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – Thanks again for reading, commenting, and marking this story as a favorite. It really means a lot. Sorry for any mistakes. I wanted to get this posted tonight so I read it quickly for typos and have probably missed a couple. One more chapter and then we're done.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 10 – Karma**

It was several minutes later before Castle and Beckett emerged from the interrogation room, almost running into Ryan and Espo as they raced into the bullpen. Gates was talking on the phone in her office.

"Bro, for a dead man, you look pretty damn good," said Espo, giving Castle a quick manly hug and backslap.

"I'm glad to say that the report of my death was an exaggeration" Castle replied.

"Yeah, how did you pull it off?" asked Ryan, giving Castle a quick hug. "They told us that you had died in a fire fight."

Castle frowned at his friends. How much could he really tell them? "They?" he prompted.

"Agent Endel of the CIA," explained Beckett. "When they found out where you were, they were going to stage a rescue but Demetri attacked Volkov's compound before they could and that they thought you were killed in the attack."

"Demetri – huh – you just never know," Castle said to no one in particular and then grew serious at the memory of the scene in the main yard. He was sure that the Volkovs had treated Demetri like their son and to have him turn like that... "It was more of a castle, but no – no – just wounded. I was one of the lucky ones," he said, shaking his head.

Beckett smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"Well, bro, I'm just saying you did look pretty tight with Volkov, playing poker and smoking cigars," chided Espo.

Castle started to reply, only to be cut off as the elevator opened and a stern-faced man strode out.

Agent Endel stopped suddenly when he saw Castle and took a deep breath. "Mr. Castle, I presume?" he asked.

Castle nodded. "Agent Endel, I presume?"

The man stared at him for a moment. "This is rather unexpected, but a pleasant surprise. Excuse me, but I need to talk to Captain Gates for a moment and make some arrangements." He walked over and knocked on Gates' door.

Castle turned to the group. "How did you know I was playing poker?"

"The tape – the CIA had planted an asset in Volkov's group," said Beckett. "They sent the video to prove you were there. They pulled the asset out right before the planned rescue."

Castle thought for a moment. "Yeah, they did," he nodded and then looked at Beckett as she took her hand back and sat down at her desk.

"You're mad," he said as he sat down in his chair and then shot a glance at Espo and Ryan to move off so they could have some privacy. "I know my dad got word to you what was happening."

"You did look pretty cozy with them," Beckett said, pressing her lips into a thin line. "And that joke, Castle – what were you thinking?"

Castle cringed – he only knew one joke in Russian and it wasn't one for polite company and the type he usually stayed away from. "I was thinking of a way for them not to kill me," he said quietly. "Volkov threatened to mount me on the wall."

"Yeah, I can see what a great trophy that would have been," remarked Beckett.

"No," said Castle, glancing down so that Beckett got his drift. "Me—"

"Oh," said Beckett, glancing down also and then grimacing as she looked at him again. "Oh, that would have been awkward."

"I'm sorry," Castle said. "I promise to never tell that joke again – do you forgive me?"

Beckett looked up at him and smiled. "Always," she said as she placed a hand on his cheek.

Castle smiled back at her and then sat back in his chair. "And speaking of emasculation, I need to call Gina at some point and let her know that I lost the manuscript she gave me to review."

"No, you didn't. It's right here," said Beckett, pulling a stained manila envelope out of her drawer. "Agent Endel said they found it on the plane Volkov used to take you to Russia."

Castle frowned at the envelope as he took it from Beckett and opened it to look at the pages inside. He glanced up at Endel and Gates speaking in her office and then frowned at the envelope again. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Beckett nodded. "They said it was proof that Volkov had taken you."

"Uh, I'll be back in a minute," he said as he got up and walked to Gates' door, holding the envelope in his hand.

Castle took a breath before he knocked on the door and then opened it. "Captain, may I speak to Agent Endel privately?"

Gates looked at Castle in surprise and then nodded. "Of course."

She stopped as she walked by him and said quietly, "Mr. Castle, I assume that the incident in the interrogation room was a one-time event and won't happen again anywhere in the precinct."

Castle shook his head, knowing they had been caught. "No, no, sir, I give you my word that it won't."

Gates nodded sharply before walking out of the office. Most people thought of her as cold, unyielding, but she knew of desire and passion. She had felt the same thing when her husband had been in the military and deployed oversees for months at a time and their joy when he returned. But she also knew she had to run a tight ship at the precinct and couldn't play favorites.

# # # # # # # # #

Endel looked at Castle as he walked into the office and closed the door. "Yes?" he asked.

Castle stared at him for a few moments before looking at the envelope he was holding. "Beckett said that this was found on Volkov's plane."

The agent nodded. "Yes, the asset sent that as proof that Volkov had taken you, along with the video of you playing poker with them."

Castle frowned. "But how did it get there?"

"What?" asked Endel.

"The envelope – how did it on the plane?" asked Castle. He stared at the envelope. "I went to the bathroom on the flight from LA and I took the envelope with me because I knew Gina would kill me if I lost it.

"But then I got really dizzy and had to sit down in coach before I could make it back to my seat." Castle looked off in the distance as he remembered the event. "The last thing I remember is that someone took it out of my hand and put it in a plastic bag with several other envelopes – a trash bag." He frowned at Endel. "They didn't take my carry-on bag or my luggage, so why would they bother with this?"

Endel shrugged. "They must have seen you with it. Who knows what they were thinking?"

Castle's eyes narrowed as he studied the man. "No, no – I don't think they took it." He held it up. "It's got coffee stains on it so it was put in the garbage."

"Then they got it out of the trash," explained Endel.

Castle shook his head. "So how did they know it was mine?"

Endel shrugged again. "It's got your name on it," he said.

"No, it's a blind copy," said Castle. "I don't know who the author is and it doesn't have any identifying marks – not my name, not Black Pawn. So if Volkov's people threw it away, why did they go back to get it?"

"I have no clue," said Endel.

Castle nodded slowly. "I think you do because no one can disappear from a plane without someone knowing. You needed proof for the CIA that Volkov had taken me before the asset sent the video – proof that you needed to stage a rescue, but it wasn't a rescue, was it?" He watched the man as he continued. "You found out about the plot and for some reason, you wanted Volkov to kidnap me. I'm guessing you wanted a chance to take him out."

Endel returned Castle's stare for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, we found out about the kidnapping attempt. And in the same chatter was Demetri's plan to take Volkov out." He paused. "Volkov was just a Russian mobster – content to be big fish in a small pond, enjoying his lavish lifestyle. But Demetri – he wanted to expand globally with cyber attacks. So, yes, we saw an opportunity to take him out."

"And you used me as a diversion," said Castle. "But it didn't go quite as you planned it, did it? I don't doubt that you planned a rescue, but Demetri jumped the gun and attacked first."

"And it worked out quite well," said Endel. "Volkov was killed in Demetri's raid and Demetri was distracted by the raid and killed by the Russian police. Unfortunately, we had to abort the rescue attempt when we realized that the raid was taking place. I hope you understand our position."

"Yeah," said Castle, shaking his head. "It would reflect badly on the CIA to be caught during that action." He thought for a moment. "So how did you know when to stage the rescue?"

"Our source told us the day that Demetri was going to attack and we were going to rescue you right before he attacked. Unfortunately Tikhvinsky was wrong."

Castle started suddenly. "Tikhvinsky, really? He owed me $150,000, so I doubt he would have told you that I was alive." He stared as the man looked away quickly. "But I think he did tell you that I was alive and for some reason, you didn't want me found. Was that because I could prove that you knew about the plan?"

Endel's face was set in stone when he looked at Castle again. "You have no proof, Mr. Castle, other than that envelope. And this is a classified action, so if you tell anyone about this, you'll spend the rest of your life teaching writing in a maximum security detention facility."

Castle's hands balled into fist as he looked at the man. "You're right – I don't have any proof other than what I know and I can't do anything about what you did, but I can do this."

Endel staggered backwards into the window of Gate's office as Castle placed a right punch directly on the man's chin.

# # # # # # # # #

Just as the noise of Endel hitting the glass caused everyone in the bullpen to jump, the elevator opened and Agent Danberg and two burly MPs carrying assault rifles walked to Gates' office without even pausing.

"Dude, that's not right," said Espo as he started towards the door, only to be stopped by Gates.

"Stand down, Detective Esposito," she barked.

They were pleasantly surprised when the MPs escorted Endel out of the office in handcuffs and quickly took him away.

# # # # # # # # #

Danberg took a breath and looked at Castle. "Mr. Richard Castle, your government sincerely thanks you for your contribution in this endeavor."

Castle gawked at the man. "You knew too?"

Danberg shook his head. "No, we didn't. Endel had hidden it too well, but as you said, people can't just disappear from planes. We suspected, but knew we had to let him play his hand to get the proof we needed." He paused. "Endel wanted to move up in the agency and came up with this plan in conjunction with the Russian government to get credit for taking out a cyber terrorist."

"So how did you know when he confessed?"

Danberg pointed at the plaid shirt Castle was wearing. "Top button," he said simply.

The writer threw his hands up in the air. "Dad," he swore.

Danberg smiled slightly at him. "Our asset reported in once she realized you were on Volkov's plane. By then, it was too late to do anything."

"Tatiana," said Castle, nodding.

"Who?" asked Danberg.

"Tatiana," replied Castle. "She was your asset."

Danberg shook his head. "No, Brigette was the asset. Tatiana was a distant relative that the Volkovs adopted after her parents died in a fire at a factory."

Castle let out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable," he said. "She was – is a Russian agent."

"Tatiana?" asked Danberg.

"Yes," Castle nodded. "Oh, she is good – not regular Russian police, probably KGB. They must have recruited her when she went to college. In the mornings, she took me out for a walk and showed me around the grounds. I think she was trying to get me to escape. That way, they win either way – if I had tried to escape and got caught, they would have said I was an agent and accused the CIA of trying to kill Volkov. Or they get you and the Russian police to do their dirty work in killing Volkov and Demetri."

"Then I'm sure we need to check our intel," said Danberg. "Once again, Mr. Castle, we do sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you." He stepped back several feet out of Castle's reach. "But as appreciative as we are, I do have to tell that Endel was right – this is a classified action, so if you tell anyone about this, you will spend the rest of your life teaching writing in a maximum security detention facility."

Castle pressed his lips together. "Kate – I need to be able to tell Kate about this. We don't keep secrets from each other anymore."

Danberg thought for a moment. "Well, you could if you were married."

Castle watched Beckett talking to Martha and Alexis who had come in while he was talking to Danberg.

"That won't be a problem," he said, smiling.

# # # # # # # # #


	11. Ch 11 - Not As Planned But It Was Them

**I Dream of You – The Missed Wedding Version **

Summary – Castle agrees to go on a marathon book tour in August so they can have the wedding in September, but disappears from the plane on the flight back. I'm sure this is going to be one of many "missed wedding" fics because you just know that these 2 aren't going to have a normal wedding. Where would be the fun in that? But AM may give them one just to give them a break – who knows?

Author's Notes – So here we are at the final chapter. Thanks again for reading, commenting, and marking this story as a favorite. I really appreciate it.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle. ABC and Marlowe do. Just playing with the characters.

# # # # # # # # #

**Chapter 11 – Not As Planned But It Was Them**

Nodding at something Martha has just said, Beckett smiled as she watched Castle and Danberg talking in Gates' office.

The writer seemed to have calmed down quite a bit since his initial outburst, and the men finally shook hands before opening the door and walking out.

"Dad!" shrieked Alexis as she hurled herself at him and he caught her in a big bear hug. "I knew he would find you," she whispered in his ear as he held her tightly.

"Richard, you gave me such a fright," said Martha as she hugged them both quickly. "I'm getting too old for this." She stepped back and scrutinized him for a minute like she did when he was in school and had just brought home a note from the principal stating his latest transgression. "You look like you've lost weight, and is that makeup?" she asked as she put a hand under his chin and turned his face to the side. "This must be some story, kiddo."

"Yes," responded Castle as he looked over at Danberg. "And the CIA has been gracious enough to give me permission to tell you but the details can never be made public – something about spending the rest of your life teaching writing in a maximum federal detention facility if you do."

"Mr. Castle, we prefer that you remain here until we have your cover story established," said Danberg. "It shouldn't take longer than a few hours at the most and then you'll be free to leave."

Gates looked at the people standing around the bullpen. "Why don't we take this to a more private setting?" she said.

Castle nodded and soon the group was comfortably situated in the break room. The writer sat in the middle of the couch, Beckett on one side and Alexis on one side. Martha, Lanie, Gates, Espo, and Ryan sat in the other chairs and waited for Castle to begin.

He looked at Beckett questioningly. "Should I start from the beginning?" he asked.

The detective nodded.

"Well, remember that case years ago about the man who was the drug mule for the Russian mobster? Volkov was the player who said he loved Derek Storm and asked why I had killed him off. It seems his wife, Pola, was a big fan and that made her cry, and no one makes his wife cry…" Castle began.

# # # # # # # # #

Castle finally finished the story several hours later, leaving everyone in the room amazed. He had carefully edited out certain facts – that his father had been involved, what he had seen in the courtyard during the attack, the initial involvement of the CIA. Beckett already knew about his father, but he would tell her the rest later on.

"Bro, seriously?" asked Espo after staring at him for a few minutes. "I knew it was a bad idea to send you in there."

"I would have to agree at this point," said Castle.

"How about some coffee?" said Lanie as she stood up. "I know I could use some after that."

There was a chorus of "yeah" and "me too," and Castle and Beckett suddenly found themselves alone again.

He started to lean forward and then remembered his promise to Gates and pulled back slightly but still held on to Beckett's hand.

"Rick," Beckett said softly. "They found the computer – the one you used to write the story."

"Really?" Castle asked.

Beckett nodded. "When they thought you were dead – they gave us a copy to read – they also gave one to Gina." She thought for a moment, trying to decide what to say. "It was eye-opening—"

"Kate," Castle started and swallowed thickly. He had known that the story would never see the light of day so he had put his heart and soul into it, the years of pain and frustration of trying to get past Beckett's walls translated into the journey of Storm having to relearn everything again, his long-lost love by his side, the joyful steps forward, the heart-wrenching backward slides that seemed to overwhelm everything.

"No," said Beckett, "let me finish." She pressed her lips together. "It was painfully beautiful," she said finally. "And I'm so sorry – I wasted so much time – if I hadn't been so stubborn—"

Castle shook his head. "No, Kate, there's nothing to be sorry about," he said as he caressed her cheek. "We aren't the same people we were back then. It may have been great, or we may have crashed and burn." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "But it would have been a pale comparison to what we have now."

Beckett smiled at him again, love shining in her eyes. "I love you," she whispered.

"Always," Castle whispered back.

# # # # # # # # #

Danberg came in several minutes later. "We're almost ready," he said. "You might want to see this."

He turned on the TV in the bullpen to the local news station as the people gathered around it.

"This is Kim Pickler for MSNBC reporting outside of Precinct 12 in New York where it has been reported that the famous mystery writer Richard Castle has just reappeared. Has he pulled a Derek Storm and been working with the CIA during the last few months? All that a spokesperson for the Secretary of State would say was that Mr. Castle was assisting in a very delicate situation that required the utmost secrecy. And apparently this didn't include telling his family and finance so we'll just have to see what the fall out is from this and whether large quantities of expensive jewelry are required to mend the fences of a missed wedding."

Castle leaned closer to Beckett. "I'm truly sorry that I missed our wedding," he whispered in her ear. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

Beckett put a finger to his lips to shush him. "I'm just glad you're back."

Danberg cleared his throat to get their attention. "And since this is a photo op, we've got prep teams ready for both of you."

He motioned towards several people standing in the background.

A slender young man walked up to Castle and appraised him with almost distain. "Whatever did you do to your hair?" he said as he let out a sigh that relayed he had gotten the short end of the stick. "We've got a lot of work to do to make you ruggedly handsome again and not much time to do it in, Mr. Castle."

# # # # # # #

Beckett stared at her reflection in the mirror after the prep team had finished with her. She had almost refused to wear the dress and stilettoes they had brought in, saying that it made her look more like one of Storm's bimbos than the hard-nosed detective that she was.

While she could easily handle the press on the job, she still wasn't comfortable with it intruding on her personal life. But the press and publicity was part of the package that was Richard Caste and she was willing to accept that because she loved the man deeply.

Smiling to herself, Beckett studied her reflection one more time. The lace and silk creamy colored creation fit her perfectly, hugging her body just right and emphasizing her best qualities and she did look exquisite in it and today was the day for that now that Castle was back.

The hairdresser had put her hair up into soft curls framing her face, leaving her long neck elegantly exposed.

Beckett frowned for a minute. She was going to wear her hair similar to this at their wedding because she knew how much Castle liked it – not that fact that her hair was actually up, but that he could reach the back of her neck easily and loved taking it down when they were home alone.

But how could they have known that, she thought curiously before walking out of the room.

# # # # # # #

When Beckett walked out of the room, Castle was already standing by the elevator, looking like his handsome rugged self, the dark blue pin stripe suit fitting him perfectly, the lilac buttoned shirt opened at the collar and complementing his eyes, hair perfectly coifed once again.

He beamed at her as she walked up. "You look gorgeous."

"Mr. Castle," said Danberg, handing him a piece of paper. "Here's the prepared statement. I trust that you'll stick to it?"

"I'll do my best," said Castle. He turned to Beckett and grasped her hand in his. "Ready?"

# # # # # # #

The sun was just dawning over the skyline as they walked out of the door and up to the throng of waiting reporters.

Strobes started flashing, almost blinding them as they made their way to the hastily erected podium.

Gina was the first to speak. "Hello, I'm sure all of you are aware of recent events. We wanted to give Mr. Castle a chance to answer a few of your questions personally." She looked through the crowd of reporters who had gathered, frantically waving their hand to get her attention. "Ms. Pickler," she said finally.

"Mr. Castle, is it true you were working with the CIA?" asked the reporter.

"I was fortunate enough to see how they function on a daily basis," Castle replied, beaming a megawatt smile at her. "But beyond that, I can't give you any details."

"Will this turn up in one of your books?" another reporter asked.

Castle shook his head. "No – I'm told that would involve a lengthy prison sentence if it does."

"Was your life threatened at any time? Were you scared?" another reporter shouted.

"Me – no way. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go change my shorts." Castle paused, suddenly becoming serious. "I personally would like to thank all of the first responders – our troops, the police officers, the firefighters, the EMTs – those people who put their lives on the line daily to keep us – this world – safe. And I for one am very grateful and thankful for their dedication and the personal sacrifices they make."

Keeping Beckett close to him, Castle smiled for the cameras as they posed for a few more photos and then held up his hand. "I want to thank all of you for coming, but now, there's one more thing I have to do. As all of you know, I missed an important date-" he was interrupted by several laughs and cat calls from the reporters. "And I want to make sure there's not a chance of that happening again."

He surprised Beckett when he dropped down to one knee, taking her hands in his. "Katherine Houghton Beckett, love of my life, I can't wait one more day for you to be my wife. Will you marry me now?"

Beckett stared at Castle in surprise and then looked around at the people who had walked up behind them while the reporters were taking pictures.

Alexis and Lanie were wearing the knee-length versions of the bridesmaid dresses they had chosen, carrying bouquets of her favorite flowers. Martha was in her not quite over the top mother-of-the-groom dress. Espo and Ryan and even Captain Gates were wearing their dress uniforms.

Her father stepped up behind her and gently kissed her. "Your mother would be so proud," he whispered in her ear.

This definitely wasn't the dress, the big church wedding she had dreamed of, even planned, but this was definitely them.

"Yes," she said, smiling through tears. "Richard Alexander Edgar Rogers Castle, I will marry you now."

Castle quickly stood up as the mayor walked up and called for silence. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to unite in marriage these two people, Richard Edgar Castle and Katherine Houghton Beckett," he began. "And I don't expect any objections because it's about damn time."

# # # # # # #

Hunt watched the ceremony from inside the black town car parked down the street from the precinct – the stating of the vows, the exchanging of the rings, the congratulations that followed when the mayor pronounced them husband and wife.

"Thanks," he said simply into the phone.

"Well, we did avert a major world crisis because of Castle's involvement," the voice replied. "This is the least we could do."

Hunt watched as the happy couple entered the waiting limo and leave for the private reception at Remy's which had been opened especially for this occasion.

"What about the other problem?" he asked.

"We're not quite ready to move on that, but it shouldn't be too long now."

Hunt nodded. "Let me know when I'm needed."

"We'll be in touch," said the voice.

# # The End # #


End file.
